


Think of Me, Won't You? Out There Among the Stars

by Espressosaur, Ignisentis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Both Parties Are Teenagers and Consent to Said Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang, Embedded Images, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Oral Sex, Outer Space, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Space Opera, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Underage Drinking, canon minor character death, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-30 07:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 80,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21424828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espressosaur/pseuds/Espressosaur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignisentis/pseuds/Ignisentis
Summary: Steve’s heart breaks when Bucky turns 18 and his Gift emerges: he’s a Voyager, blessed with long life and the irresistible urge to travel the universe. Voyagers, Steve knows, don’t usually come back once they leave. Steve’s happy that Bucky will get to leave Terra IV, their shithole of a planet, to explore his beloved stars. But he isn’t sure what he’ll do once Bucky’s gone and he’s left behind.Bucky does come back, at the exact moment Steve needs him to, and makes a decision that changes Steve irrevocably and alters the course of both their futures, before disappearing. Steve tries to adjust to his new life as he searches the cosmos for Bucky. When the looming shadow in his prophetic dreams threatens to consume Bucky, he’s terrified that he’s already too late.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Joseph Rogers/Sarah Rogers
Comments: 155
Kudos: 191
Collections: Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! 
> 
> Before I say anything else, some Thank Yous are in order:
> 
> First, I would like to thank my incomparable beta, Paperstorm, for all her support. This fic wouldn't exist without her pertinent suggestions on how to make it better, but more importantly, she was incredibly supportive throughout the writing process, listening to all my venting and buoying me up when I needed a little confidence. Thank you for EVERYTHING, my dear! 
> 
> Second, I would like to thank my amazing artist, Espressosaur, for being such a joy to work with! They're so incredibly talented, and I've really enjoyed our Twitter chats planning art, sharing fic snippets, and talking about life in general. It's collaborations like these that make Bangs so much fun, and I appreciate all their cheerleading and hard work!
> 
> Lastly, thank you to the Captain America Big Bang mods for everything you do! It's been wonderful working with you all, and you've done an amazing job!
> 
> ~~
> 
> On a personal level, this fic is the most ambitious thing I've ever written. I wasn't sure I would be able to pull it off when I originally had the idea and made the outline, but I'm incredibly proud of how this fic has turned out. It's been a labor of love, and going through this whole process has taught me a lot about myself and my writing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> If you see any tags that I've missed, please feel free to politely let me know in a comment.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Joseph Rogers picks up another porous rock and hears the telltale hiss of the Xytar gas as it seeps out of the holes. He tosses it onto the conveyor belt and pauses to wipe his brow and look out at the horizon. Sylvar is just starting to set, turning Terra IV red under Engardial’s lone glow. He gathers his tools and heads back toward the farmhouse, turning off the conveyor when the last rock has reached the end and tumbled into the collector bin. He pushes the button that will set the collector bin onto the factory track and gives it a little sarcastic wave as it lurches away.

He stops to check the generators and pumps outside of the farmhouse and steps inside when he’s satisfied they’re safe for the night. When the Xytar settles after second sundown, the cold nighttime temperatures turn the gas deadly. The pumps and generators keep it from getting into the house and killing them in their sleep. Well, not killing them outright, but setting off the Z alarm as they scramble for masks and suits and hope no one has to go outside and fix the equipment in the dead of night. That’s how people die on the Xytar farms. Hence the daily safety check.

Sarah Rogers is standing on the porch with a glass of water in her hand, a smile curling across her face, when Joseph walks over. He leans down to kiss her sweetly, plucking the water from her hand and draining it in one go when he’s done kissing her. “Animal,” she grins, smacking him lightly in the stomach. He growls and nips at her neck, drawing a yelp and a harder smack. Sarah pushes away, giggling, and runs into the house when Joseph swats in her general direction before chasing her up the stairs and into their bedroom.

It’s lemonade in Sarah’s hand a few weeks later, and a full-blown smile. “I know it’s not your birthday or our anniversary. So what are we celebrating?” Joseph asks, savoring the sweet tartness as it slides down his throat. Sugar and lemons aren’t the easiest things to get around these parts.

“Life,” Sarah replies, putting her hand on her belly.

“Sare-bear,” Joseph gasps. “Truly?”

Sarah rolls her eyes at his ridiculous nickname but still quirks a smile, just like she always does. She nods, and Joseph reaches out to place his hand over hers. “You are a wonder, Sarah Rogers.”

~~~

Joseph starts when Sarah touches him lightly on the shoulder. He’s sitting on their threadbare couch, the dim light of the moons the only light in the room. Sarah reaches down and stops his hands from turning his compass over and over and over.

“It won’t be like that for our child,” she whispers. “It will be hard in its own way, but it won’t be like that.”

Joseph hangs his head and sighs. “I know,” he whispers back. “But I’m still scared. What if I didn’t do enough?”

“It’s enough, Joseph. It’s enough.” He feels her hand start carding through his hair, and he sighs softly, tracing his fingertip around the edge of the compass. “Come back to bed, won’t you, darling?” she says after a spell.

He nods and places the compass on the coffee table gently, letting his wife lead him back up the stairs, under the quilt, and into sleep.

~~~

“Lemonade again? You’ll spoil me, you know.” Joseph gulps down half the glass and reaches down to cup his wife’s face in his hand before kissing her soundly.

“We’re having a boy,” Sarah says, and Joseph feels the smile spread across his face.

“A boy. Isn’t that something. Now we need to think up a name, I suppose.” He knows Sarah won’t want to name their boy after her father, and he barely knew his own father enough to name their son after him.

“What about Steven?” Sarah suggests lightly, concern in her voice.

Joseph raises his glass and takes another sip of lemonade to try and mask how his throat has tightened up. He closes his eyes and remembers blond hair, a perpetually split lip, a heavy arm around his shoulder drawing him close. A small knife and a lesson on how to use it, anger at the world around them, strong yet gentle hands when it came to him. A boy grown old under the weight of responsibility. The sound of the accident, and blood, and his brother, taken before his time. Too young, always too young on this gods-forsaken planet.

“I uh…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, grunting softly when Sarah shoves herself against him and wraps her strong arms around his waist. He clears his throat and tries again. “Steven sounds good. Thank you.”

Sarah hums into his chest, and he lets her hold him as his eyes slip closed again and he sinks back into his memories.

~~~

Joseph watches as the Corporation maintenance man hurries through the checkup of their generators and pumps. The suns are setting, and he’s hurrying to finish so they’ll be safe to run during the night. Joseph isn’t sure the man gave himself enough time to get this job done, and he’s feeling anxious the closer to full sundown it gets.

The man wipes his arm across his forehead to clear the sweat and grunts in satisfaction when the part he had removed to clean snaps back into place. He bolts the generator cover back on and gathers his tools, hurrying over to Joseph.

“You’re all set!” he chirps, clearly ready to leave their farm.

“Are you sure? It usually takes longer to go through the maintenance routine,” Joseph challenges.

“I’m sure, sir. Everything is set and ready to go. Have a good evening!” the man shoulders past Joseph and hurries to his vehicle, spraying up dust as he peels away. Joseph walks over to the machines and takes a look, but he doesn’t see anything out of place from the outside, and he doesn’t have time to open up the panels and take a closer look. He’s not sure if he’d be able to spot a problem if it wasn’t obvious anyway.

Joseph sighs and heads back to the house. “Is the maintenance man done?” Sarah asks when Joseph walks into the kitchen.

“Yes. I’m worried that he rushed through everything, though. Usually it takes longer.”

“Did he say everything was in good working order?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m sure it will be fine. And you can go back out and take a look in the morning when the gas rises to double check, if you want. Holo the Corporation maintenance number and have someone else come out and double check instead, if you want. You know they won’t send someone at night.”

Joseph grunts his agreement and walks over to Sarah, leaning down to rest his head on her shoulder. He rests one hand on her growing belly and the other on her hip. “Tell me again,” he whispers into her neck. “Please.”

He feels her take a deep breath before she starts talking in a low melodic voice, like she always does when she talks about her home planet. “Anam Cara is lush and green, with rolling hills and valleys and crags. There are sheep everywhere, and the air is fresh and damp. There’s no Xytar on the whole planet, so no one really cares about the people there. No Corporations or Federations owning your life. We’ll apply for a plot of land and build ourselves a little cottage out of stone. We’ll have a cow and sheep and some chickens. The heather will bloom in the late summer, and daffodils in the spring. It will be a hard life, but it will be _our own_ life.”

“Our own life,” Joseph echoes softly. “Three more years.”

“Three more years,” Sarah answers.

Joseph envies how quickly Sarah falls asleep that night, though he knows it’s exhaustion from the baby. Who’s currently kicking up a storm. He makes a shushing sound and pats his wife’s belly gently before resting his hand there to feel their son again. Still kicking: defiant already. Joseph smiles and snuggles up closer to his wife.

He’s finally managed to doze off, hours after climbing into bed, when the Xytar alarm goes off. He’s out of the bed like a shot, pulling out a sealed container from under the bed. Sarah is up now, too, coming around the bed to where Joseph is pulling out their Hazard suits and masks. He hands Sarah her set and starts pulling on his own.

“I knew that guy didn’t do the proper maintenance routine, I just knew it!” Joseph grumbles, zipping up his Hazard suit and going for his mask.

“Joseph,” Sarah gasps. He looks up and freezes. Sarah’s suit is half-zipped; it isn’t big enough to fit around her pregnant belly. He looks at her face, eyes wide with fear, and starts pulling off his own suit.

“Take mine.”

“Joseph, no. I can’t do that.”

“Sarah, you have to. Please.”

“No! I won’t! You can’t go out there without a suit!”

“Sarah,” Joseph whispers, moving to his wife and placing a hand on her belly. He feels Steve kick at it and smiles sadly. “Do it for him.”

Sarah shakes her head and sobs but reaches out for Joseph’s suit all the same. Joseph’s shoulders loosen in relief as he watches his wife zip up his larger suit without any difficulty. He helps her set her gas mask in place and puts his own on before heading down the stairs and out into the night.

His heart pounds with every minute he has to spend outside fixing the generator. It’s taking way too long, and he knows it. Fuck the Corporation and fuck Terra IV and fuck Xytar gas in particular. Sure, it’s an incredible source of energy, but at what gods-damn cost? It’s easy to use the stuff when you’re not the one taking the risks to farm it.

He swears when he drops his wrench, fumbling around to find it on the ground. Deep breaths, Joseph. Keep it together. Sarah and Steve need you to keep it together. He tightens down another loose bolt, cursing the maintenance man once again, when the generator hums to life. Joseph whoops triumphantly and hurries to bolt down the outer cover.

He can see Sarah through the house’s windows, screaming his name as he passes by. He holds up his open hand; five minutes for the generator to clear the gas. She nods and puts her hand over her heart. Joseph does the same. She’s holding it together and being so brave, and Gods, he loves her so much.

He bursts through the door when the five minutes are up. Sarah has the hazard suit disposal bin on the floor, and she peels off her suit and throws it into the bin. Joseph pulls off his clothing and mask and waits for Sarah to do the same before shutting the bin and sealing it up. Sarah reaches for him, but he holds out his hands.

“I need to shower first. Stay here. We’ll call and report the incident when I get done.” Sarah nods, and Joseph watches her wring her hands instead of reaching out to touch him like she so desperately wants to. Like he himself wants her to.

He washes his hair three times and scrubs himself thoroughly before coming back downstairs, wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping. Sarah launches herself at him, and he wraps her tight into his arms and lets her cry on his shoulder.

They call the Corporation to report the incident. Some high muckity muck in Control asks to holo with them, so they hang up and dig out their holo and talk to him. He’s suitably upset and apologetic and promises to send out a technician, a doctor, and a hazard team set to arrive in the morning when it’s safe for them to travel to Terra IV.

Sarah is shaking when they finally end the holo call. “Come on,” Joseph says gently and pulls her into the kitchen to find something for her to eat. She’s still scared and won’t leave his side, but she manages to choke down some food and water and stops shaking.

Joseph holds her and pointedly doesn’t tell her everything is going to be all right. They both know it won’t.

The transport ship kicks up clouds of dust when it lands the next morning, a harried-looking group of people exiting into the brightness of the day. A technician praises Joseph’s quick fix and pulls the generator apart to make sure it’s put together properly again. The hazard team take his statement, and Sarah’s, and they take scans of the generator and the house, the farm, everything. The doctor takes scans of them both and a small blood sample, feeding it into his tablet.

Sarah’s blood comes back clean, amazingly, and Joseph squeezes her hand before kissing it. Thank the gods for small miracles. “I’m sorry,” is all the doctor says to Joseph when his results tabulate. He closes his eyes and lets the sound of Sarah going over the results with the doctor wash over him, her voice rising in panic with every answer she receives. It’s just background noise to the rushing sound in his ears.

He opens his eyes and looks at his wife, her beautiful face twisted up in anger and grief. She’s fighting for his life with everything she has, even though they both know it won’t matter in the end. If it makes her feel better, though, he’ll let her rage at the world.

He turns toward the doctor and clears his throat. “What about the baby?” he asks softly. The doctor blinks at Joseph and Sarah, who’s fallen silent and now looks at the doctor expectantly.

“As far as we can tell, the baby is fine. As is Sarah. Now, we won’t be able to tell for sure until the birth, and since there are some months left to go, something might come up. But for now, everything looks on track with the baby.”

Sarah reaches over and clasps Joseph’s hand as he sighs in relief. Thank the gods for that, at least.

The Corporation representative offers them a worker to help run the farm since Joseph won’t be able to by himself anymore. Sarah makes a scathing comment about the farm being worth more than human lives, but the representative barely bats an eye, so they must have heard worse. They offer a severance package for when Joseph dies that includes an apartment close to the hospital where Sarah works, and a small monthly stipend.

Sarah gets angry at the offer and leaves the room.

“For how long?”

“I’m sorry?” the representative says.

“How long will they have the apartment? And the money?”

“Until the end of Sarah’s natural life.”

Joseph frowns and shakes his head. “Make it until the end of Sarah or Steve’s natural life, whichever comes last, and we’ll have a deal. I want him taken care of in case something happens to his mother.”

“Let me make a call.”

Joseph nods and leaves the room to go find Sarah while the details of the offer get worked out.

“I hate this,” Sarah hisses when Joseph finds her and wraps her in his arms. “I hate talking about you like you’re already dead! I hate…” she trails off with a soft sob and lets Joseph hold her tighter.

The Corporation agrees to Joseph’s terms, so they sign the agreement, with some reluctance on Sarah’s part. Joseph squeezes her hand and thanks her for doing this, for putting his mind at ease.

“We’ve put in a request for a medical Mender to transfer to Terra IV on at least a 2-year stay to help you and help with the birth of the baby, but…” the representative trails off, not needing to finish their sentence. Everyone in the room knows the likelihood of a Mender wasting their time and their talents somewhere like Terra IV is slim to none.

“If there’s nothing else, we’d like to be alone now,” Sarah says shortly, her limit more than reached.

“Of course. We’ll be by tomorrow to make sure we’ve finalized everything to your satisfaction. Have a good evening.”

“Can’t be worse than last evening,” Joseph mutters under his breath as he sees the group out. “You’ve got about an hour before the Xytar makes the atmosphere unsafe, so be sure you’re where you need to be by then,” he tells them.

Sarah slips her arms around Joseph’s waist and rests her chin on his shoulder and watches the group load back into their transport before it takes off to dock in the nearby town for the night. Sarah heaves out a watery sigh. “I’m glad they’re gone.”

“Me too. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

~~~

Joseph is out supervising the farmhand, though after five weeks on a Xytar farm the man knows his way around everything and doesn’t need supervision, when someone pulls into their drive. Sarah’s at work, and he isn’t expecting any visitors, so who the hell is this? He starts hobbling over to meet the person who gets out of the vehicle, a rumpled looking fellow with curly hair that’s starting to gray at the temples. The man looks around and raises his arm in a wave when he spots Joseph, then reaches into his vehicle to grab a leather bag before making his way over.

He holds out his hand and smiles when he reaches Joseph, who tilts his head at the man but reaches to shake his hand anyway.

“My name is Bruce Banner. I’m a Mender. I was wondering if we could go inside and speak?” his voice is gentle and kind, and Joseph finds himself relaxing without meaning to.

“I’d like that.”

“Is there anyone you’d like to have with you?”

Joseph hesitates before shaking his head. “I expect you’ll do your best, but that you’ll still give me bad news in the end. I don’t want my wife to get her hopes up.”

“All right,” Bruce says as he follows Joseph into the house.

The man does do his best, but even he can’t work miracles. He does promise Joseph he’ll live long enough to see his son born, and he’s not wrong about that. Steven is born on a Thursday, screaming his way into the world. Joseph cries at the sound, as does Sarah, before exchanging nervous glances as the nurses take the baby directly to Bruce.

He comes in an hour later, his eyes tired. “Your son is alive, but he’s not out of the woods just yet.”

“What the hell is going on? No one will tell us anything!” Sarah hisses. Joseph squeezes her hand and turns to look at Bruce.

“As best as we can tell, your baby —”

“Steven.”

“Steven, pardon me. Steven absorbed the effects of the Xytar accident, which probably saved Sarah’s life. But it really did a number on him — he has heart murmurs that will require corrective surgery. His spine is crooked. He’s not breathing very well and may have lung issues as he grows. He’s anemic, though that is one problem that’s easily solved at least. There may be other things we don’t know about just yet, things that manifest as he gets older. I’m doing everything I can for him, but it’s going to be a tense first month or so. I know that’s a lot to take in, but if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask them.”

“Can we see him?” Sarah whispers. “I just want to see him. Everything else can wait.”

Bruce’s face softens at Sarah’s request. “Of course. I’ll take you to him now.”

They make their way to the room where Steve’s being treated, and Sarah gasps when she sees all the tubes and machines attached to her tiny baby. She starts crying, so Joseph pulls her to him and lets her cry into his shoulder.

“I know it looks scary, but he’s a fighter, your Steven. Feel free to talk to him all you want. The nurses will help you with anything else you need. I’m going to rest for a bit and then come back and see what else I can do,” Bruce says, his voice strained with exhaustion.

“Thank you,” Joseph replies. “You saved his life today.”

Bruce hums and shakes his head. “Maybe. Maybe not. You two get some rest if you can, too. Mender’s orders.”

Joseph turns back to his wife to find her speaking with the nurses about how to prepare herself so she can touch their son.

Bruce wasn’t wrong when he said Steve was a fighter. He survives and thrives, defying the odds and his own body at times. He’s well enough to come home after six weeks, and both Joseph and Sarah cry the first night they spend all together in their own house.

They have a few gorgeous months together before Joseph’s health starts deteriorating rapidly.  
It’s worse at night, as these things often are. Sarah lays next to him in bed and strokes his hair gently, whispering sweet things so they don’t wake the baby.

He grabs her hand one evening shortly after Steve’s fallen asleep in his bassinet, and rubs his thumb over her delicate knuckles. “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry for leaving you two. I wish…” He sighs wetly as his throat closes up, reaching up to brush a tear off his face. “I never should have brought you here, Sarah. We should have just —”

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. We made the best choice we could have, and you know that. Sure, our options were all shitty, but there’s nothing we could have done about that. I don’t regret that we came here.” She rolls onto her side and turns to face Joseph, drying the tear tracks on his face where he didn’t quite manage and ignoring the ones on her own face. “I love you, Joseph, and I always will. And I am going to miss you like crazy. But even with everything that’s happened, with everything that is going to happen, I don’t regret coming here with you. We had to try. We had to. And I’m glad we did, okay? I will never, ever, not for one moment, regret trying. Because that means I would regret you, and that is an impossibility for me. Do you believe me? Tell me you believe me.”

Joseph closes his eyes and nods. Sarah exhales sharply through her nose and scoots closer, wrapping her arm around Joseph’s waist and nosing at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

“And yeah, this sucks. This sucks a lot. But this life we’ve had here, hard as it was, has made me happier than I have ever been in my entire life. And we’ll be okay, Joe, I don’t want you to worry about us. Steve and I, we’ll be alright. You made sure of that. We’ll have an apartment and a stipend, and that’s more than either of us have had before. We’ll make it work. _I_ will make sure it works. I will make sure our son grows up to be a good man, just like his father before him.”

“I know you will,” Joseph whispers into Sarah’s hair. He inhales deeply, needing her comforting scent in his nostrils. “I love you, Sare-bear. Try to be happy, okay? It’s alright if you’re not for a while, but please try, okay?”

“I will, my darling. I will.”

“Good. That’s good.” Joseph closes his eyes and lets himself slide into oblivion.

~~~

He dies the next afternoon. The Corporation gives Sarah two weeks from the funeral to pack their things for the move into the new apartment, which must feel generous to them but rubs Sarah’s nerves raw. She wants to scream at their representative every time they come by, but she knows that won’t help, not really. And she signed those damn papers saying she wasn’t allowed to talk about it anyway, not the accident or how Joseph died or why Steve is so sickly. So she swallows down her anger and packs their belongings and leaves the gods-damned Xytar farm behind.

The apartment isn’t bad, all things considered, but Sarah hates it on principle. There’s a bedroom for her and one for Steve that someone painted a cheerful blue. The Corporation had the decency to hire people to move the boxes and the furniture, at least, and get everything set up for her and Steve. Maybe one day when she’s not feeling so bitter she’ll acknowledge how helpful that was.

The kitchen is a decent size, with nice counters and space for a little table. The family room is comfortable, and there’s another small room off of that that’s meant for an office, maybe, but that she intends to turn into a play space for Steve.

She catches herself planning for their future here and curses at herself a little. She wants to revel in the anger and the pain and the bitterness for a little while longer, at the unfairness of it all.

She can’t fall asleep that night, bed too cold and big in the new and unfamiliar space. Which is fine because Steve can’t seem to sleep, either, poor thing. He’s up crying every hour or two all night. Hopefully the neighbors will be understanding. Or at least are not assholes about it.

Gods, she wishes Joseph were here.

Mid-morning there’s a knock at the door, and Sarah frowns in its general direction. She glances over at Steve, who’s on the floor nestled among some pillows, happily swatting at some toys as he practices his sitting, and drooling away. The lack of sleep doesn’t seem to be bothering him, which is more than Sarah can say for herself.

She tears herself away from watching her baby when the person at the door knocks again and makes her way over to it. There’s a woman standing in the hallway when Sarah opens the door, holding a foil-covered plate in one hand and a baby on her hip. The baby takes one look at Sarah and ducks its head into the woman’s chest with a whine.

“Oh, James, don’t you worry. This is just our new neighbor. He’s in a shy phase at the moment,” the woman says, addressing Sarah.

“Oh,” Sarah says.

The woman laughs kindly and shifts her hold on the baby — James — so he doesn’t slide down her leg. “Let me guess, yours hasn’t gotten there yet?”

“No. He’s only four months old, so he’s not doing much of anything yet.”

“Except keeping you up at night, am I right?”

“I’m so sorry about the noise, he doesn’t usually do that. I think it was the move and everything else, and —”

The woman waves at Sarah to cut her off. “Oh, please don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean it as any sort of criticism. That’s just what babies do. Gods know I’ve been there.” She holds the plate up towards Sarah. “Anyway, I just thought I would bring you a little something and introduce myself since we’ll be neighbors.”

Sarah takes a step back and motions into her apartment. “Come in, please. I don’t know where my manners went today, I’m sorry.”

“Sleep deprivation is a hell of a thing. That’s what I always use as an excuse any time something goes wrong for me. Nine times out of ten it’s the truth anyway.”

Sarah chuckles and takes the plate from the woman’s hand. “Thank you for bringing this. I’m Sarah Rogers. My son, the one with the impressive lung power, is Steven.”

“I’m Winifred Barnes, but you can call me Freddie. This is James. He’s almost eight months old.”

“Steven is four months old. He’s in the other room, if you want to go in. Can I get you something to drink? I’ll bring it in.”

“Something heavily caffeinated, please.”

Sarah laughs. “I have just the thing.”

Freddie, as it turns out, works in the hospital, too, and they become fast friends. Their boys get along as well as babies can, always babbling to each other about this or that. Steve likes to throw toys, and James likes to hand them back to Steve, eliciting squeals of delight from Steve and giggles from James.

When Sarah’s bereavement leave is over, Freddie helps her enroll Steve in the hospital’s on-site daycare. “How did it go?” Sarah asks one of the workers when she picks up Steve at the end of her shift.

“Once we discovered that keeping Steve close to James Barnes would stop both of them from crying and screaming, everything was a breeze!” the worker says, gazing fondly at Steve. “The two of them are so cute together. They babble back and forth like they’re having little baby conversations, and one of them will try out a new toy and give it to the other if it meets their approval. Steve kept trying to crawl off and get into things, but Bucky would crawl after him and herd him away from danger or from the older babies. It was adorable, honestly. I can’t wait to see how they grow together.”

Sarah kisses Steve on the cheek and laughs when he scowls at her. “Thank you,” she says to the worker. “I’ve been nervous about leaving him, but that made me feel a lot better. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here!” the worker chirps. “Bye, Steve!” They wave and Steve gives a little baby wave back. Sarah kisses Steve again and thinks that maybe, just maybe, things here are going to work out after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve groans as his fever pulls him from sleep, rubbing his hand over his eyes to clear the sleep-grit. He groans again when the motion aggravates the pressure in his sinuses. His head is pounding now, too, right in rhythm with his heartbeat. He tries to sit up so he can take a drink of water to help with his parched throat, but he’s too weak and ends up flopping back down onto the bed with yet another groan.

“Gods, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that deep voice coming from you. The visuals just don’t add up.”

“Fuck off, like puberty is kind to anyone.” Steve groans again just to prove his point, and Bucky laughs from the doorway of Steve’s room. He’s leaning jauntily on the doorframe, his school bag slung across his back, stuffed with books.

“I don’t know, I think I did all right,” Bucky says as he saunters into Steve’s bedroom. Privately, Steve agrees: at almost 14, they’re both almost through a lot of the crap that comes with the added hormones, and Bucky has definitely come out the other side the better of the two of them. Though, Steve thinks bitterly, that’s not really hard to do considering the competition..

His school bag thuds heavily onto the floor, and he starts pulling out books and papers and other shit that Steve doesn’t really want to deal with at the moment. So he groans again for effect. Bucky snorts and keeps piling Steve’s work on the end table next to his bed.

When he’s done, he starts pacing around Steve’s room, filling Steve in about what’s been happening at school, what he’s missed in class. He’s touching all of the things Steve keeps on his shelves and his dresser, and Steve’s sure Bucky doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Steve inhales sharply when Bucky pauses in front of the bookcase and reaches out to touch his dad’s compass. It’s the only tangible thing he has of his dad’s, but he’s never been able to bring himself to tell Bucky about it, why it means so much to him. They don’t talk about his dad. Gods, he and his mom barely do, let alone him and anyone else.

Bucky grazes his fingers over the outside, feeling the cool, smooth metal, before gently picking it up and opening it. Bucky’s eyes widen as the needle inside spins around wildly. He lets out a surprised little “huh” and closes the compass again before setting it lightly back onto the shelf. Steve exhales sharply and feels like he can breathe again. Well, as much as his cold will allow, at any rate.

“Has Mender Bruce been by?” Bucky asks, turning to look at Steve and completely changing the subject. 

“Huh?”

“Mender Bruce. Has he been by?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Cold, sinus infection, the usual.” Bucky hums and turns back to the book shelf. He pulls out a tattered paperback and waves it a little bit. 

“Want me to read to you until you fall asleep?”

“Are you sure? Maybe this is the time I finally give you my germs and make you sick.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “If it hasn’t happened yet, I don’t think it will this time, either. So. Book or not?”

Steve nods, warmth unfurling in his belly and spreading through his torso at Bucky’s offer. Bucky smiles and nods back, scooching Steve over on the bed before fluffing up a pillow and leaning it up against the headboard. He wiggles around until he’s in a comfortable reading position then cracks open the book and clears his throat in an exaggerated way until Steve laughs at him. Bucky smiles down at Steve and starts reading in earnest.

Steve closes his eyes a few pages in and lets Bucky’s soothing voice wash over him, lets the heat of his body comfort his feverish one, lets himself feel safe and cared for. Bucky is so kind and thoughtful, a beautiful soul inside that beautiful body, and Steve loves him so gods-damn much. Just so — wait, what was that last part?

Steve’s eyes fly open, and he feels his heart flop over in his chest, and oh, shit, is _ that _ why it does that whenever he sees Bucky? He thought it was just literally his own bad heart, but no, it’s because of his _ feelings _ . Feelings for _ Bucky. _

Maybe it’s not love. Maybe it’s just...a crush.

Except that heart thing has been happening for years now, if Steve’s really being honest with himself. And it would explain a whole lot of other things, like how his eyes are always drawn to Bucky when he’s not looking. How thinking about Bucky makes him feel happy. How he spends way too much time thinking about Bucky for it to be purely platonic.

Well, fuck. He’s in love with his best friend.

His best friend who, blessedly, hasn’t noticed Steve’s crisis and is still reading. He’s even doing voices for each character, which is so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help but smile. Oh, yeah, he’s got it bad. Whatever, he’s sick. He’ll deal with this in the morning. Steve sighs happily and scoots closer to Bucky until his forehead is touching Bucky’s arm. He closes his eyes and lets Bucky’s voice lull him to sleep.

~~~

“Steve. Steve. Steve!”

“Huh?” Steve blurts, dropping his spoon back into his bowl, where it promptly splatters oatmeal onto the table. “Shit!”

Sarah Rogers sighs and shakes her head and hands Steve a towel.

“Thanks, ma.”

“Steve, honey, are you okay? You’ve been so distracted lately, and that’s not like you.”

“Yeah, ma, I’m fine.” _ Yep, just fine. Not freaking out about realizing that I love my best friend or anything. Situation normal. _Sarah narrows her eyes. “I’m just tired. Catching up on my school work after that last illness has been hard, you know?”

Sarah still doesn’t look fully convinced, but she lets it slide. Steve sighs. He hates not being truthful with his mom, but he’s just not ready to talk about this yet. 

“Okay, if you’re sure. But you know you can tell me anything, okay? I love you, and I’m here for you.”

“I know, ma. Thank you.”

~~~

Steve wakes with a sigh, groaning when he realizes he’s soaked with sweat. The apartment is sweltering in the afternoon suns. The atmo conditioning must be on the fritz again. Steve sighs again and tosses off his blanket, crossing his bedroom to open the window in the hopes of getting a breeze. The winds should be starting to shift soon, which will send the breeze in his direction. 

He pauses in front of the window and closes his eyes, taking in the sounds of the Xytar fields in the distance; the clang of heavy machinery, the hum of the generators, the shouts of the workers. “Steve,” they’re saying, far away. “Steve,” they’re saying, closer now. “Steve,” their voices carry on the wind.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts, outside the apartment. “Steve, come on!”

“Okay!” Steve shouts back, his eyes still closed. He turns and heads out of his bedroom, down to the lobby of their building, the doors hissing as they calibrate the atmosphere between the building and the world outside.

The doors finally open, and Steve steps outside into the sunlight. “There you are!” Bucky says next to Steve, and he turns to see his friend, a smile stretching wide across his handsome face, his slate eyes twinkling in the golden light. 

“Come on, I want to show you something!” Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s wrist, tugging him toward the trees in the distance. Steve laughs and lets Bucky pull him along, gasping when they startle a bird out of the tall grass. It squawks and flies up into the air, its long tail feathers shimmering in the bright, clear sunlight. Bucky laughs and runs ahead, into the forest that’s right in front of him.

Steve pauses and watches him run around the trees, breathless with awe. The trees are enormous, at least twenty feet in diameter and a hundred feet tall. They’re almost all trunk, the bark a pale green with white spots, a cloud-like wisp of golden leaves settled at the very top like a kiss.

“Steve, come on!” Bucky shouts again, and Steve laughs and follows, through the tall grass below the mountains, the forest far behind him now. Bucky gasps and Steve whips his head around to find a massive creature with orange fur standing on its hind legs. It has huge claws and probably massive teeth, but its head is tilted, its dark eyes contemplative instead of murderous. Bucky giggles and the creature huffs and lowers itself back onto its forelegs and wanders off in search of food, seemingly decided that Bucky and Steve are no threat. 

Steve looks away from the creature to see where Bucky went, and he’s right beside him and reaching out to pull Steve flush with his body. He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, and Steve hums happily and nuzzles his face into Bucky’s throat. 

“I wish we could do this forever,” Bucky says, the vibrations tickling Steve’s nose. He giggles and kisses Bucky right on the bolt of the jaw, which draws a happy little noise out of him.

They stay like that until the sun gets low in the sky, a few stars popping up here and there, and they almost look close enough to touch. Bucky points toward the sky from the top of the mountain they’re on. “That’s Nefyrr,” he says, “and that one is Plorep. That one over there, see the little red one? That’s Veris Athar.”

Bucky laughs, and they’re down on the plains again, Bucky running ahead, whooping as he jumps and sends some ground birds aloft. Steve rolls his eyes at the antics but smiles anyway. His smile fades when he notices a shadow in the corner of his eye. As he turns to look at it, it grows and spreads. It’s like smoke, thick and roiling, and it’s getting bigger and bigger. Steve tries to run to Bucky, but he can’t move: his arms and legs aren’t working. He panics and yells for Bucky, but no sound comes out of his mouth. He can feel his scream, can feel the vibrations in his throat, but no sound passes his lips.

The shadow is expanding rapidly now, stretching toward the sky and blotting out the setting sun, creeping along the ground and eating up everything in its path. Steve screams his silent scream again, but Bucky can’t hear him. He’s still running and laughing, turning around to wave at Steve, and why can’t he _ see _ this? Why isn’t he doing something?

The shadow sends out tendrils toward his beautiful, oblivious Bucky, and Steve opens his mouth and screams and screams and screams but makes no sound as the shadow swallows Bucky whole.

Steve wakes, gasping for breath, Bucky’s name on his lips, wondering what the hell just happened.

Steve has the dream again the next month. And the month after that. He’s not sleeping well, and Bucky had asked what was wrong, but Steve just shook his head and didn’t answer. Bucky had looked so hurt for a moment before he recovered and told Steve to at least tell his mom or Mender Bruce if he didn’t want to tell him about it. Steve had felt intensely guilty and tried to apologize, but Bucky just waved it off and pretended like it never happened. Which Steve is both frustrated by and incredibly grateful for.

His mom, though. His mom. She’s trying so hard to let Steve work through things on his own, but she looks so damned concerned every time she looks at Steve, and he really doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. 

Steve is doing his homework one Thursday evening when his mom comes home from work, a bag of groceries balanced precariously in each arm. Steve jumps up and takes one of the bags, closing the apartment door behind his mom.

“Thank you, dear. I got ingredients for halket picar. I know that’s your favorite. Want to help me chop the vegetables while I get the sauce going?”

Steve swallows down the lump in his throat. His mom is trying _ so hard _, gods. “Yeah, ma, I’d like that.”

They cook together in silence, Steve trying to work out exactly what he wants to say to his mom as he chops, the rhythm of the knife soothing. He’s going to tell her over dinner. It’s his mom, she loves him. It’s gonna be okay. 

The picar is delicious, but Steve finds he’s not really hungry. He’s been pushing the same piece of halket around his plate for the last five minutes at least when his mom clears her throat quietly.

“Steve, is there —”

“I’m in love with Bucky,” he blurts out, interrupting.

“Oh, Steve. Of course you are.”

“What?!” Steve whips his head up to stare at his mom. “What do you mean ‘of course I am?’”

“I just mean it’s been pretty obvious for a while now. Is that what’s been worrying you?”

Steve shrugs. “Partly. I just hadn’t realized before. And I’m worried that he’s going to find out, and that he won’t love me back, and then it’s going to ruin our friendship, you know?”

“Oh, honey,” she says gently. “This is Bucky. Do you really think he would do that to you? That he wouldn’t be friends with you anymore if he knew that you loved him?”

Steve looks down at his plate and starts pushing the halket around again. “Probably not,” he grumbles.

“So what’s really bothering you? I know it isn’t easy to realize you love someone, and that you’re scared, but that isn’t the only thing, is it?”

Steve huffs and shakes his head. His mother waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts and continue.

“I’ve been...having these dreams.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They’re weird. Incredibly realistic but weird. They’re about Bucky. And me, I guess. I’m asleep, and I wake up, and I hear Bucky calling to me from outside, so I go out to meet him, but when I go out of the apartment building, we aren’t on Terra IV. We’re always on a different planet. And we explore for a bit, in a disjointed dream way, but then this shadow starts to descend and cover everything in sight. Bucky is always separated from me at that point, and he’s happy and unaware of what’s happening, and I try to yell at him to warn him but I can’t make a sound. And I try to run to him, but I can’t move. The shadow covers everything I can see, including Bucky, and then I wake up.”

Steve looks up at his mom, and she’s gone completely still, a shocked look frozen on her face that she clearly had tried and failed to suppress.

“Mom?” Steve says, his voice small and tight.

That shakes her out of her reverie. “How many times have you had this dream, Steve?”

“Three times now. It happens once a month, or thereabouts.”

“And it’s always the same?”

“Some of the details change, like what planet we are on when we’re outside, but the overall theme is the same.”

“Baby, I think you had better tell me everything you can remember about this dream.”

Steve does. The furrow between Sarah’s brows grows deeper and deeper as he talks. When he finishes, Sarah closes her eyes and sighs heavily. 

“Mom? What is it? What’s wrong with me?”

Her eyes fly open, burning as they meet Steve’s. “There is _ nothing _ wrong with you, Steven. Do you understand? _ Nothing. _ You are perfect just as you are.”

Steve rolls his eyes at the mantra. She’s been telling him since he was a kid. “Yeah, okay.”

“It’s probably nothing, okay? Maybe just a vivid imagination getting mixed up in your newly discovered feelings for Bucky. Let’s wait a few months and see what happens. If you’re still having them when your annual visit with Mender Bruce comes around, I think you should tell him what’s happening.”

Steve nods. “Okay.” That makes a lot of sense.

“Now,” she says with a twinkle in her eye and a wiggle of her shoulders, “tell me more about how much you looooove Bucky.”

“Oh, ma!” Steve gripes. But he proceeds to do just that.

The thing is, once Steve realizes those fluttery feelings he’s been having around Bucky for years is actually love and not just his heart acting up, it’s impossible to ignore. He doesn’t mean to think about Bucky all the time, and he really tries to push his feelings aside and just be friends. He does. It’s just that Bucky is so tactile with him: he’s always grabbing at Steve’s arm or pushing him jokingly or wrapping his arm around his shoulders while they walk because Steve is just at the right height for Bucky to do that, and he can’t seem to help himself. He even, gods help Steve, ruffles his hair. His hair!

And it’s _ amazing, _ it is, it feels like lightning zipping across his skin every time Bucky touches him, and Steve craves Bucky’s touch, has to catch himself from leaning into it so Bucky doesn’t figure out what’s going on.

But it’s also _ fucking awful _ — thanks, puberty — and if Steve never has to hide an inappropriate erection again he’ll die a happy man. Hormones are _ stupid. _

They’re clearly working for Bucky, though, who keeps getting taller and broader and handsomer by the day. Gods, are his teeth getting whiter? How is that even possible? Bucky is turning into a perfect specimen of a human being, and Steve is stuck in his small, broken body and will be forever, and maybe he cries about it at night sometimes, but it’s just not _ fair. _ Bucky can get anyone he wants, so why would he ever want Steve?

Once, when he was feeling really low, Steve thought about what it would be like to save himself the heartache and cut Bucky out of his life, but that hurt worse. That hurt so much worse.

So Steve resigns himself to loving Bucky and tries to learn to live with it.

The shadow is just starting to descend when Steve is pulled from his dream. He grunts and flings an arm out, only to hear Bucky whisper, “hey, whoa, Steve. It’s just me.” Steve tries to answer, but Bucky puts a finger to Steve’s lips and shushes him softly. Steve nods, and Bucky smiles, moving his hand away and stepping back. He makes a “come on” gesture with his hand, so Steve pushes the covers aside and gets out of bed to follow him.

They’re quiet as Bucky leads him to the stairwell. They’re three floors up when Bucky finally says, “I want to show you something.”

“Okay.” 

Bucky nods and leads Steve up a few more floors until they reach the roof access. Steve frowns at Bucky. They used to come up here sometimes when Bucky was feeling antsy and the height would help him settle. But the door to the roof has been locked for years, as Bucky knows.

“What are we —” Steve cuts himself off when Bucky produces a key from his pocket. He smirks and wiggles the key a little bit, which makes Steve snort and roll his eyes. Bucky uses the key to unlock the door to the roof. He pauses before opening the door and looks back at Steve.

“When we get out there, you’re gonna need to run real quick, okay? Just for a bit. Just follow me.”

“Bucky, what —”

“The Xytar fields are far enough away that they won’t be a danger, but I know you don’t like being outside after dark anyway. It will just be for a moment, okay?”

Steve blinks a few times, taken aback by Bucky’s perceptiveness. It’s true, he doesn’t like being outside after dark, but he hadn’t realized that Bucky knew that, especially since Steve’s never mentioned it. Or mentioned why, for that matter. _ Bucky’s been planning this, and worrying over me _, and something dislodges itself from Steve’s chest with that thought and flutters about wildly.

Bucky’s face falls, and he looks down at his toes when Steve’s silence has dragged on too long, and Steve hates how sorrow looks on him. Steve steps up to him and pokes him in the chest to get his attention. Bucky lifts his head but turns it to look at the wall.

“Show me. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“I’m sure, Buck. I’m always sure about you.”

Steve stomach drops, his eyes widening, and he takes a small step away from Bucky because _ what the hell, brain, _ we’re supposed to be trying to keep it together here! Thankfully, Bucky just smiles and doesn’t think anything of it.

“You won’t regret it, Stevie. I promise.”

Bucky unlocks the door and opens it before running out onto the roof. Steve follows as best he can, sprinting behind Bucky for a few seconds before they reach an old glass structure on the rooftop. Bucky pulls open the door and beckons to Steve, slamming the door behind him when he runs through.

His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, and it takes longer than he’d like to catch his breath again, but when he’s finally recovered enough, he glances around the structure before settling his eyes back on Bucky. “What _ is _ this place?”

“It’s an old greenhouse. They used to grow vegetables and stuff up here, but no one’s looked after it in years.”

“How did you find it?”

“Oh, um…” Bucky shrugs and starts making his way behind some old wooden tables. He rummages around for a bit before pulling out a couple of blankets. He smiles and spreads them on the floor right in front of a wall of glass windows where a space has been cleared. “I dunno. Couldn’t sleep one night, so I decided to search around, and I found it.”

“Where’d you get the key to the roof?”

“Oh! My ma had one, isn’t that wild? She never knew that we used to come up here when we were little, and she caught me sneaking back into my room one night and made me tell her where I had been, and instead of yelling she went over to a cabinet and pulled out this key!”

“That’s lucky.”

“Isn’t it? Anyhow, I didn’t bring you up here just to show you this greenhouse.”

“Why did you, then?”

“Just wait a minute or two. And look up at the sky. You’ll see.” Bucky tips his head up and starts looking up at the clouds and waits, a little smile curling up the side of his mouth. He looks so handsome, limned in the filtered moonlight, and Steve wants to kiss him so _ badly. _ His fingers itch to run through Bucky’s soft, lush hair. Bucky sighs happily and Steve echoes it unconsciously.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Bucky asks, his voice full of wonder.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers back, his own voice full of the same.

Bucky turns to him and smiles widely, and Steve feels his heart tumble over and fall into his stomach. He’s not sure he’ll survive the night at this rate. “Look,” Bucky whispers back, pointing to the sky.

Steve tears his gaze away from Bucky’s face and does as he asks, gasping when he sees the sky. The cloud cover has cleared away, and the sky is filled with stars and all manner of things that Steve has never seen before. 

“Bucky, it’s…” he doesn’t really have a word for what it is.

“Yeah. It is. The clouds clear in the middle of the night for a little while, and I love coming up here to see it.”

“I can see why.”

Bucky points toward a particularly bright star. “See that blueish one? That’s Nefyrr,” he says, “and that big, bright one is Plorep. That one over there, see the little red one? That’s —”

“Veris Athar,” Steve finishes, his mouth suddenly dry and his throat and chest tight.

“Yeah, it is! How’d you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” Steve chokes out. Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t seem to notice, and he spends the next ten minutes telling Steve all about their night sky. His enthusiasm eventually manages to loosen the vice around his chest, and by the time the clouds roll back in, Steve feels like he can breathe again.

Bucky’s quiet for a bit, and Steve doesn’t want the night to end, so stays still and quiet, too, and tries not to think about how much he wants to kiss Bucky.

“Thanks for coming up here with me,” Bucky says after a while. “I know I must have bored you with how I was going on.”

Steve reaches out and tugs on Bucky’s shirt a little bit. Bucky smiles and bats his hand away. “I wasn’t bored, Bucky. I’m never bored when I’m with you. Maybe I don’t feel the same pull to the stars that you do, but I liked listening to you talk about it.”

“Yeah? Want to do it again sometime?”

Steve smiles and nods. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

~~~

Steve sees Mender Bruce on his 14th birthday for his checkup, and Bruce asks after him, how he’s been, any changes in his body because puberty is a hell of a thing, and Steve blushes and doesn’t really want to talk about it because who does? But Bruce is so kind and patient, as always, so Steve ends up talking to him anyway. 

It’s when he starts asking some leading questions about dreams that Steve stops and looks at him.

“Has my mom been talking to you?”

Bruce stammers a bit before clearing his throat and falling silent, clearly thinking about how he wants to word whatever he’s about to say. It makes Steve’s nerves tingle.

“You know that she and I keep in contact about you and your health. She did come to me when you started having those dreams because she was concerned. But I want to hear about it from you, if you don’t mind.”

Steve thinks about it for a little while before nodding. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you start with the first dream and we can go from there?”

Steve nods again and starts talking.

He and Bruce end up talking for a while, way longer than their usual appointments. When they’re done, Bruce nods and thanks Steve for trusting him with this and tells him that, as always, anything he says in the office stays between Bruce, Steve, and his mother. Steve shrugs and thinks it’s a weird thing to say, but whatever.

Bruce asks Steve to wait in the waiting room and calls his mom back into his office so they can talk. His mom pats Steve on the shoulder and has a sort of apologetic look on her face as she passes Steve in the waiting room. Steve rolls his eyes and goes to take a seat.

All of the pamphlets sitting around are old and boring, and the only window in the waiting room looks out toward another building, and there’s no holo screen or pet tank or anything else to look at. Ugh, this is so stupid. Steve is tired and hungry and bored, and how long are Bruce and his mom going to talk? Ugh!

He tries to entertain himself for a few more minutes before giving up and going toward the office. Maybe if he whines enough his mom will stop talking and take him home. The door is cracked when he gets there, and he overhears Bruce talking lowly with his mom, the two of them going back and forth in hushed whispers. Steve hears his name and pauses, moving to the wall next to the door, standing flat against it so he can listen in without being seen.

He hears his name again, and he realizes Bruce is talking about how Steve’s dreams could be Seer stuff manifesting early. Apparently, sometimes that happens, especially in powerful Gift recipients. But it could just be Steve, too, and nothing to worry about. Maybe he just has an extremely vivid imagination that’s manifesting itself in repetitive dreams.

“What are the chances that’s it, though?” his mom says, and Steve can hear the worry in her voice.

Bruce pauses, and that’s all Steve needs to hear. He creeps away from the door until he’s far enough away that they won’t hear him when he starts to run back to the waiting room. He sits back down in a daze and stares out the window at the building next door.

A Seer. That’s...it can’t be. Not him. There hasn’t been a Seer born on Terra IV in decades, and besides, why would it be Steve? With his health problems and broken body? It doesn’t make _ sense. _

He starts when he hears “you ready to go?” right in front of him. He looks up and his mom is smiling at him. Her head tilts a little when he doesn’t answer right away, instead looking up at her in shock.

“You okay?” she asks, head tilting further, smile sliding off her face and turning into a small frown.

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve replies, shaking his head a little bit to try and snap out of his daze. “I didn’t hear you come over, and it startled me.”

Sarah reaches her hand out and ruffles his hair. “That’s my Steve, always deep in thought trying to solve some problem or another.”

“Ugh, ma, come on!” Steve gripes as she chuckles and ruffles harder.

Steve’s quiet through dinner. And all the next day. And for the next few days. It’s just, he can’t get the idea out of his head. Is it possible? Is he a Seer? He tries to predict little things, like who his teacher will call on in class or what socks Bucky will wear to add some color to their drab school uniforms as he likes to do, or what his mom packed him for lunch. It’s not exactly a scientific effort, and he’s wrong more than he’s right, but does that even mean anything? It probably doesn’t.

Bucky notices because of course he does, and he takes it upon himself to talk more and try harder to distract Steve and make him snap out of whatever it is that’s put him into this funk. And Steve appreciates it, but he also wishes Bucky would just leave well enough alone because it’s not like he can _ talk _ about it with him. _ Hey, I’m in love with you and also might be a Seer, hahaha! _ He’s sure that would go over _ real _ well. 

Bucky gives Steve a week before he comes over after school, closes the door to Steve’s bedroom, and plops down on the bed next to him. “All right, spit it out. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Steve says sourly.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, sure seems like nothing. A whole lot of nothing has you acting like a dick.”

“I’m not acting like a dick! _ You’re _ a dick!”

Bucky bumps Steve’s shoulder with his own. “Just tell me what’s wrong, Steve. You know I’ll help.”

“You can’t help,” Steve mumbles. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.” Steve can feel his eyes start to prickle and his throat’s tightening, and isn’t that just great? Crying is exactly what he wants to do right now. Thanks, emotions.

“Hey,” Bucky says, his voice all soft and understanding, and that makes Steve stiffen up, anger swooping through his chest. “It’s okay, Steve, whatever it is. If it’s embarrassing or something, it’s probably not worse than anything I’ve done.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bucky! Just leave it alone!” Steve shouts, balling his fists and slamming them down on the bed.

Bucky jumps up and steps away from the bed. “What the fuck, Steve? I’m just trying to help!”

“I don’t need your help! And I don’t need your pity?”

“Pity? What are you talking about?”

“Just leave me alone!”

“Steve —”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Steve screams, and he wants to take it back as soon as he says it because Bucky looks so damn hurt for a moment before his face twists into a sneer.

“Fine,” he says coldly, and oh, does it sound wrong coming from his mouth. “Go ahead and be an asshole. What do I care? I don’t, that’s what.” He stands up and walks to the door, turning around as he opens it to say bitterly, “see you around, I guess.” He closes the door softly behind him, but the sound of it echoes loudly in Steve’s ears anyway.

Bucky leaving like that makes him feel like his strings have been cut, and he collapses onto his bed and buries himself under the covers. Their conversation bounces around his brain again and again and Steve doesn’t realize he’s crying until he’s cried himself to sleep. 

Bucky ignores Steve the entire morning at school. He even sits with other people at lunch, and Steve tries not to watch him talking and laughing with friends while he sits alone and picks at his food. He ignores Steve the whole afternoon and after school, too. And the whole next day. And the next.

Fuck him, then, talking and laughing with other friends like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Who needs him, anyway? Certainly not Steve.

Steve drops his school bag by the front door and makes his way to the kitchen for a snack. He stops when he walks into the room, surprised: his mom and Bucky’s mom are sitting at the table, looking guiltily at him.

“What are you two gossiping about? Steve snipes, drawing a sharp “hey!” from his mother. He rolls his eyes and heads toward his room with a “whatever.”

He’s not even all the way down the hallway yet before he hears Mrs. Barnes say, “Bucky is being curt with me, too, and talking back. They definitely had a fight.” Steve forces his way into his room and slams the door behind him, not caring that it makes him mom mad when he does that.

Steve flops face-first onto his bed and can feel the tears forming in his eyes. He blinks desperately, trying to hold them back. He knows he’s being a jerk, but he can’t seem to stop himself. And why did Bucky have to keep pushing in the first place? Steve said he didn’t want to talk about it! He just needed some space and some time to think, but _ nooooo, _Bucky had to push his nose in where it didn’t belong and pester and press and force Steve to talk about it. It’s all his fault! If he hadn’t have been so curious and stupid and handsome in the first place, none of this would have happened!

It’s true, all of it, and Steve knows it is. It’s all Bucky’s fault. Somehow this solution doesn’t make him feel any better. _ Cacat, _ he misses him.

His mom knocks lightly on his door a couple of hours later, telling him that there’s a plate of food for him in the fridge if he wants it. He doesn’t answer, letting the guilt and shame swirl around in his guts instead.

~~~

Brock knocks all the books out of Steve’s arms in the hallway the next week, sneering and laughing with Jasper as they continue down the hall. Steve balls his hands into fists as he sinks to the floor to collect his things. They never do this when Bucky is with him, and the reminder is as good as a fist to the face. 

He gets all of his shit together and stands back up, looking around to see who else may be waiting around for a piece of him. A lot of eyes skitter away when he looks in their direction, except for one pair: Bucky’s. He’s standing a little further down the hallway next to some girl, and he’s looking at Steve, concern written all over his face. One of his arms is halfway up like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to help Steve even though he was too far away.

Steve stares at him, and Bucky doesn’t look away. The girl looks between them before putting her hand on Bucky’s other shoulder to draw his attention to her, and Bucky looks down at her before looking back at Steve, and Steve flushes hot and feels his stomach sour. He tilts his head up and squares his jaw and watches Bucky lower his arm and curl his hand into a fist before he turns away and goes the other way down the hall, the girl trailing on his heels, frantically calling his name.

~~~

Steve has his dream again a week later, and it tears him up to be with Bucky like that in his dream knowing it’s never going to happen now in real life. He feels like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones, so he sneaks out of his apartment and finds himself climbing up the stairs toward the roof before he knows what he’s doing. He realizes he doesn’t have a key when he reaches the door to the roof and curses himself. He debates going back down to this apartment but decides to try the door anyway, just in case Bucky maybe forgot to lock it the last time he came up here. To his surprise the door opens, and Steve walks out onto the roof. 

He freezes after a few steps because he can see Bucky in the greenhouse, sitting on the floor, head in his hands and shoulders shaking. Steve takes a few steps closer before he stops himself: Bucky is clearly upset about something, and there’s no way he wants to see Steve right now. That would only make it worse. 

Steve swallows down his rising guilt and aches for his friend, who is so close and yet miles away. His fingers burn with the need to touch Bucky, to wipe away his tears and wrap his arms around him and tell him everything is going to be okay. No matter what it is, it’s gonna be okay. But he knows he’s not welcome to do that anymore. And may never be again.

Steve leaves silently and makes his way back to his bed, burrowing under the covers and letting himself wonder just what in the hell he’s angry about anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

The changing season brings illness with it for Steve and always has. There’s a knock on his door after his third day of missed school, and Steve’s heart starts beating out of his chest. It has to be Bucky on the other side with his makeup school work. Maybe they can talk and patch things up. Or maybe it’s the fever talking, but he misses his friend.

“Come in,” he croaks, throat thick with phlegm. Ugh, gross, Bucky’s never gonna want him at this rate.

Mrs. Barnes peeks her head around the door after it opens, and she’s smiling, bold and bright, but she is not who Steve expected or wanted to see. He feels a lancing pain in his chest as he closes his eyes.

“I know you’re feeling poorly, sweetie, but I have your work for the week. And your books and things. There’s a letter from your teachers and everything,” she says softly. “You just focus on getting better for now, okay? This can keep.”

Steve nods his head and hopes she takes it for the thanks he means. She leans down and kisses his forehead, just like his mom does when he’s sick, and walks back around the room before pausing in the doorway.

“Listen, I know it’s not my place to say this, but Bucky misses you. He adores you, you’re his best friend, so whatever he did to you, do you think you could at least just give him a chance to make it up to him? I’ve never seen him like this, Steve. Just...talk to him, maybe? When you’re feeling better?”

Steve whimpers but nods again, which seems to placate her as she wishes him well and shuts the door behind her. And not a moment too soon because as soon as he hears the door click shut, Steve bursts into tears. Gods, but he’s really fucked everything up. And not only has he fucked everything up between him and Bucky, his mom thinks it’s somehow Bucky’s fault!

Steve lets himself wallow in that particular kind of guilt, trying to cleanse himself of it through tears and empty promises to do better. Eventually, his fever pulls him under, tears wet on his cheeks.

Brock knocks the books out of his hands again the day he comes back to school, and he’s just fucking had enough, suddenly incandescently angry. He lets the anger propel him, and he jumps at Brock, knocking him to the ground. Steve crawls on top of Brock and takes a swing, but Brock blocks it, which gives Jasper time to push Steve off and pile on him instead.

There’s a group of students circled around them now, chanting, “fight! Fight! Fight!,” and Steve lashes out at Jasper, but the other boy is so much bigger than Steve, and he lands a solid elbow to Steve’s torso before a teacher manages to break them apart.

Steve crosses his arms and refuses to talk when Principal Morita asks what happened, and Brock and Jasper sit there smirking like the assholes they are. Steve’s scowl deepens, but he’s no snitch.

Principal Morita sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and points between Brock and Jasper. “I have no doubt in my mind that you two started all of this, but since Steve won’t say, you all get detention after school for the rest of the week.”

Steve’s scowl deepens even further, and if his mom were here, she’d probably scold him and tell him his face is gonna freeze like that one of these days. After-school detention is so annoying. He’s going to have to walk home from school this week, and that takes forever. At least his homework will be done by the time he gets home.

Mr. Morita stares at them a little longer, but when no further information is forthcoming, he sends them back to their classes.

Steve is still simmering with anger by the time detention is over, pissed at the world as he makes his way home on foot. It’s at least a half hour walk back to his apartment building, every step adding and adding to his fury. He kicks at a rock, and then another rock, and that helps a tiny bit, but his insides are still roiling when he stumbles upon a man talking to a woman outside of a corner grocery.

“Oh, come on, baby, don’t be like that!” the man says, stepping closer to the woman, who very clearly does not want this man in her space.

“I’ve asked you to go. Please just go,” she begs, taking a step back.

“But it’s such a fine evening, and you’re looking so good.”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, jogging over to the couple so he can get in the guy’s face. “She asked you to leave, so you should leave.”

The man laughs and looks down at Steve. “Who are you, her kid brother or something? Stay out of it!”

“I don’t think I will.” Steve drops his backpack and gets into a fighting stance like Bucky taught him.

The guy chuckles again, looking between the woman and Steve. “I think you better run home to mommy, kid. The grown-ups are talking now.”

Steve growls and takes a swing, but the man is taller by a good seven inches and outweighs Steve by at least a hundred pounds. The woman sprints away when Steve swings, sensing a good moment to make her escape. Steve doesn’t begrudge her that one bit.

Steve’s punch doesn’t land, but the other guy’s does. As does his second. And third. Steve can feel his lip split, and there are cuts on the bridge of his nose and his cheek. He falls to the ground and earns a kick to the ribs for his trouble. He grunts as the guy kicks him again, knocking the wind out of him.

He tries to stand up again, and the man shakes his head at Steve. “Just stay down already, kid. It’s easier for everyone that way.”

“I’m not looking for easy,” Steve grits out, taking a few deep breaths before getting his feet under himself and standing up.

The guy sighs and winds up to punch Steve again but freezes when flashing lights start bouncing off the walls of the building behind Steve. The man sprints away, and Steve falls to his knees on the sidewalk.

The cops offer to call an ambulance or his mom or his doctor, but Steve refuses. He does take them up on the offer of a ride home, though. He thanks the officers and shuffles into the lobby before hitting the elevator button to his floor.

His ribs ache, and his face hurts, and usually it doesn’t get this far when he picks a fight because Bucky is there to back him up. But he wasn’t there this time. He wasn’t there because Steve hurt him and pushed him away, and it’s fine. It’s totally fine. That doesn’t hurt at all. Steve clearly doesn’t need Bucky’s help anyway, okay? He can take care of himself! He can get by on his own, gods-damnit!!!

He slams the apartment door when he gets home. His mom is at work, so no one is there to reprimand him for doing it, and he just doesn’t give a shit right now. He’s hurting, and he’s scared that he’s irreparably broken the best thing in his life, and gods but he could use a little comfort right now. Just a kind word or a hug or some reassurance that he’s not a complete fuckup.

Instead he makes his way to his room, arm wrapped around his ribs to help with the pain, and lays down on his bed. He screams and screams into his pillow and cries himself to sleep.

It’s dark when he wakes up again, groaning at the throbbing in his head and face. His ribs ache, and his lip is burning where it split. He groans again and forces himself to his feet. He needs some painkillers. He also needs to clean up his face.

He shuffles to the bathroom and pops a few painkillers before screaming as a face materializes behind him in the mirror.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Bucky, what are you doing here?”

Bucky shrugs his shoulder but won’t look Steve in the eyes. “I heard about the fight at school today. I came to check on you after school, but you weren’t home, so I decided to come back later. You were asleep when I got back, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I’ve just been doing my homework at the kitchen table. I just —” he cuts himself off, looking toward the wall and huffing in frustration. “I hope that’s okay.”

It’s more than okay. It’s so far beyond okay that it’s gone into incredible. It’s exactly what Steve wanted, what he needed, and he desperately wants to say something kind, or to apologize, anything to get Bucky to look at him again.

But what comes out of his mouth is, “I can take care of myself.”

Steve cringes at himself and watches as Bucky rolls his eyes. “Gods, you’re such a little shit. You don’t think I know you can take care of yourself? You’re an only child with a mother who works long hours. You think I don’t know who does the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry and all of that? You think it doesn’t eat me up watching you help everyone else but never letting anyone help you in return? _Fuck,_ Steve!”

Bucky sighs and runs his hands through his hair, pulling on the ends a little bit in frustration. “But I’m here now, so just let me, will you? Just sit down and keep your mouth shut for once. Think you can do that?”

Steve nods and sits down on the toilet lid, because despite what his mouth is doing, he’s missed Bucky desperately. He _aches,_ and not just from his injuries. Bucky pulls a cloth from the linen closet and wets it down. He brings his other hand up to Steve’s face and cups his jaw, tipping it back slightly so he has a better angle. He starts wiping the dried blood off, a look of perfect concentration on his beautiful face.

He is being so careful with Steve, so gentle, and Steve doesn’t deserve any of it, doesn’t deserve Bucky as a friend, but he wants, he wants everything with Bucky, and he wants it desperately. He feels a tear start rolling down his cheek. He closes his eyes so he won’t see Bucky reject him.

Bucky pauses and whispers Steve’s name, so he opens his eyes again. Bucky is looking straight at him, and it pierces Steve right to the bone.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, his soft voice laced with concern.

Steve blinks more tears from his eyes but shakes his head and whispers no. Bucky puts down the cloth he was using and cups Steve’s face and wipes the tears away from Steve’s cheeks, and Steve closes his eyes again and lets himself feel.

Bucky pulls him forward until he’s resting his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder. He’s sobbing all of a sudden, shoulders shaking, taking in deep, wracking breaths between sobs, and he feels like he’s shaking apart at the seams. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Bucky.” He can’t stop apologizing, and he can’t stop crying, and if Bucky lets him go now he might burst open.

Bucky shushes him and tells Steve he’s sorry, too, which makes Steve cry harder. He holds Steve and lets him work it out of his system.

Bucky finishes cleaning Steve up when he’s done crying. He gets some ice from the kitchen and wraps it in a towel and has Steve put it on his face. He pulls Steve to the couch and sits down first. Steve sits down next to him, as close together as he can get, and Bucky gently tugs on his shoulder until Steve’s got his head in Bucky’s lap. Bucky starts carding his hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve feels another tear wind its way from the corner of his eye down his face.

Bucky shushes Steve when he tries to talk, instead telling him a story until Steve falls back asleep.

He jerks back awake, moaning when the pain kicks back in. Bucky is still on the couch with him, humming and stroking his hand absently down Steve’s arm.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, not wanting to break whatever truce they’ve established but also desperately wanting to go to bed. “Can you help me get settled in bed?”

Bucky’s hand pauses on its way back up Steve’s arm. “Sure. That’s probably a good idea.”

Steve makes his way to his bedroom, Bucky following close behind. Steve sighs when he pulls the covers back, exhaustion hitting him like a kick to the ribs. He crawls under the covers and pulls them up over his head like a cocoon: maybe tomorrow he’ll emerge better than he was today.

Steve feels the bed dip under Bucky’s weight a second before the covers are pulled down for Bucky to peek in. “Scoot over, you bed hog,” Bucky says, and Steve really wants to believe that’s fondness in his voice.

He does as Bucky asks, and Bucky lays down next to him on the bed, on top of the covers but pressed right up against Steve, rolling onto his back and scooting up to lean against the headboard. He leans over toward the nightstand and picks up the paperback he was reading to Steve before Steve blew up their lives.

“Want me to read to you for a bit until you fall asleep?”

“Sure. But I don’t remember what was happening, so you’ll have to start from the beginning.”

Bucky makes a little dissatisfied noise in his throat, but he does. They’re two chapters in when Steve blurts out, “I overheard Mender Bruce telling my mom he thinks I might be a Seer.”

Bucky freezes and blows out a breath. “Is that what’s been bothering you lately?”

“Yeah. It’s just...it’s too big, Buck.” Steve swallows down the lump in his throat, rolling onto his side so he can see Bucky’s face.

Bucky’s silent for a little while. Steve can tell he’s working through their whole lives in his mind, trying to see if there’s any evidence that what Steve just told him might be true. Eventually he says, “do you want to tell me about it?”

Steve nods and does.

“Gods, Steve,” Bucky says when Steve’s finished. “I don’t...I don’t really know what to say.”

“I know. Me neither.”

They’re silent for a while, motionless in the darkness of Steve’s room. Steve wants Bucky to say something, anything, but the longer he’s quiet, the more scared Steve gets that this might be too much for their friendship. A Gift isn’t something to be taken lightly, as much as they’re revered and desired. There’s a duty, a responsibility that comes with having a gift, and it can be too much for their loved ones to bear.

“What do you dream about? Your Sight dreams, I mean.”

Steve pauses, taking a moment to decide how honest he wants to be. He’s scared of telling Bucky the truth, but he’s been so good to Steve tonight, so open and caring. Maybe it’s time to reward that. Steve takes a deep breath and says, “you, Buck. It’s always you.”

Bucky makes a little wounded noise and reaches over to trace Steve’s bottom lip like he can’t help himself. Steve whimpers, and that makes Bucky pull back, eyes wide like he didn’t realize what his hand was doing. He looks terrified, and Steve’s heart turns over in his chest because maybe...

“Steve, I —” whispers, voice cracking, and Steve interrupts him by surging forward and kissing Bucky on the lips.

His lips are soft and just as lush as Steve thought they’d be. They’re also not kissing back. Steve pulls away from Bucky in a panic, blurting out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking. Well, I guess I shouldn’t have done that period, so please just pretend that never happened, and we can go back to being just friends —”

“I don’t want to be just friends.”

“ — It’s fine, I’ll be fine, and I understand, okay? You don’t owe me anything. I’ll do better, I won’t make you feel awkward, I promise.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Gods, you’re stupid sometimes. You just caught me off guard is all.” He leans down again to kiss Steve, who makes a surprised sound and starts kissing back. They kiss for a little while, sweet and soft and tender, before Steve pulls back with a sigh. His lip is starting to hurt, but he doesn’t want this tenuous thing between them to end.

“Yeah?” he asks, quiet and unsure.

Bucky smiles and looks at him with such fondness and care and devotion that Steve blurts out, “I love you.” He claps his hand over his mouth and feels the blush forming on his cheeks. Oh. Fuck.

Bucky cracks the biggest smile Steve’s ever seen on him and kisses Steve again before resting his forehead on Steve’s. “I love you, too. I have for a while, Stevie. Maybe forever.”

Steve closes his eyes and soaks in the warmth of Bucky’s skin pressing against his. It spreads through his torso and down to his limbs. Bucky loves him. Bucky loves him! He never really thought Bucky would ever return his feelings. He’d hoped, of course, and dreamed, and wished, but really believed? Steve sighs happily, basking in the unexpected feeling of contentedness. He pulls back and places a kiss on the tip of Bucky’s nose. Bucky laughs and smiles, full and beautiful.

“I’m sorry I was an idiot.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry you were an idiot, too.” Bucky snorts as Steve punches him on the shoulder. He slides down the headboard a bit and pulls Steve tight against him. Steve leans his head on Bucky’s chest, slinging his arm across Bucky’s waist. He sighs at how good it feels to be wrapped up with Bucky like this. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “I’m sorry, too. I guess I just wasn’t used to you keeping anything from me, and I overreacted. You don’t have to tell me everything all the time.”

“I want to, though. Turns out it feels pretty shitty, keeping things from you.”

“Okay.”

They’re quiet for a while, both thinking about everything that happened that night. Bucky eventually reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

~~~

Steve’s doing his homework at the kitchen table when Bucky keys into his apartment, calling out a “Steve?” as he takes his shoes off.

“In the kitchen!” Steve calls back, closing his books and leaning back in his chair for Bucky. He smiles when he catches sight of Steve and comes over, dropping a kiss on Steve’s head before sitting down next to him at the table. He pulls out a jar of clear liquid and holds it up.

“Guess what this is?” he says excitedly.

“Uh...water?”

“Water?! Why the fuck would I bring you a jar of water?”

“Because you’re worried about my hydration levels?”

“I mean, I do actually worry about that, but no. Think stronger.”

“...melted ice?”

“Melted — you know, sometimes I question why I love you.”

Steve gasps dramatically and puts his hand up to his forehead.

“Gods, you’re an asshole,” Bucky says around a smile. “It’s liquor, idiot.”

Steve puts his hand down and frowns. “Where did you get liquor? You’re not old enough to have that.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re 16, Steve, not 60. Lighten up a little!”

“But where did you get it?”

“I took it from my dad. He has a bottle on the top shelf of the storage closet just collecting dust, so I poured some out and replaced it with water so it’s at the same level. He’ll never know.”

“Buck…”

“Come _on,_ Steve!” Bucky whines. “Let’s go to the abandoned warehouse down on Arex Street and drink this. No one will see us there, and we won’t have to worry about our parents walking in on us.”

“Only if we get to throw rocks at the windows while we’re there.”

Bucky smiles, mischievous and bright. “Now you’re talking.”

They’re pleasantly tipsy bordering on drunk, the liquor long gone. There’s a pile of rocks at their feet and broken glass scattered along the building, and not just from their doing. The walls of the warehouse are covered in graffiti, some of it pretty good, in Steve’s opinion. Bucky’s laughing at himself for missing his throw, and Steve laughs at him, too, picking up a rock to take his turn.

“Watch how it’s done, Barnes.” Steve winds up to throw, then freezes when he feels a sharp pull in his solar plexus. _“Run!”_ it says. _“Danger!”_ it says. _“NOW!”_ it says. Steve drops the rock and grabs Bucky’s arm.

“Hey!” Bucky slurs, but Steve just tightens his grip and hisses, “run!”

Bucky gets with the program then and sprints ahead of Steve, turning sharply down an alley after a few hundred yards. Steve follows shortly after, careening into the alley and right into Bucky. Bucky grabs Steve’s shoulders and holds up a finger to his own lips. Steve nods seriously and mimes zipping his lips shut.

They duck behind a pile of broken-down pallets and other random shipping detritus. They’re both breathing heavily. Steve takes a few deeps breaths and tries to get his breathing under control so he doesn’t have an asthma attack.

The pull that sent them running is gone, a heightened sense of awareness left behind in its wake. Steve listens and can hear something approach the spot where they were throwing rocks and pause there before moving ahead again. Whatever it is is getting closer, slowly but surely, and soon Steve can just barely make out some sort of mechanical whirring.

His heart starts pounding when the Corporation security droid hovers in the entrance to the alley. He holds his breath and doesn’t move a muscle, hoping that they’re far enough into the alley that the darkness and the pile of stuff they’re behind will shield them from its view. Because if it catches them, they are both fucked.

The droid passes by without even pausing, but Steve counts to ten in his head anyway before releasing the breath he was holding. He hears Bucky do the same, but neither of them make a move to get up. They want to make sure it’s not going to double back and catch them once they leave the alley.

A tense five minutes pass with no sign of the droid, so Steve looks over at Bucky, who nods, and they get up and make their way out of the alley as quietly as they can. They start running once they clear the warehouse area and don’t stop until they get back to Steve’s apartment.

They shut the door and lock it behind them, leaning their backs against it as they both struggle for breath. Steve chances a look over at Bucky, and he’s still panting lightly, his face the living embodiment of “holy shit, we survived” that Steve has ever seen. The lingering adrenaline and the effects of the liquor combine so that Steve can’t help but laugh at Bucky. Which makes Bucky laugh. Which makes Steve laugh harder.

They collapse onto the floor, laughing and pushing at each other. That was way too close.

Steve sits back against the door once his laughter has died down, and Bucky does the same, stretching his legs out in front of him. “How did you know that droid was coming?” he asks Steve, looking ahead instead of at Steve.

“I don’t know. I just felt this sharp pull in my chest that was telling me to run, so I did.”

“Is this...like a Seer thing?”

“I don’t know, Buck.”

“I thought Seers had either dreams or waking premonitions, not both.”

“I said I don’t know, Buck!”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…_cacat,_ Steve. That was close.”

“Yeah.” Steve giggles. Apparently the alcohol hasn’t quite worked its way out of his system yet.

Bucky starts giggling too before leaning over for a kiss. He pulls back to say, “let’s never do that again,” and Steve nods seriously before pressing his lips to Bucky’s.

~~~

Steve hums and sticks the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. He glances over at Bucky again, who’s splayed out on Steve’s bed, reading aloud from a book about space, as per usual these days. He looks back to his drawing and hums again. Something isn’t right about Bucky’s eyes in his sketch. Something’s missing. He glances up at Bucky again and focuses on his eyes as they dart back and forth.

Steve grunts softly and reaches into his pencil cup for a softer pencil so he can shade under Bucky’s eyes, pausing when he touches the tip to the paper. Since when has he needed to shadow under Bucky’s eyes?

He looks over at Bucky, examining his face carefully once again: there they are, two dark smears under his blue, blue eyes. What the hell? Steve flips through his sketchbook and checks his drawings of Bucky, and sure enough, the smears are there in his sketches going back two weeks now.

Steve kicks himself for not noticing sooner. Why isn’t Bucky getting enough sleep? Steve gets that way sometimes when he has Sight dreams, but Bucky’s never said anything about his dreams. If it was important, surely he’d tell Steve? They don’t keep things from each other anymore. Do they?

Steve worries at his lip and looks up when Bucky sighs happily, closing the book he was reading as he gets up off the bed. “That was a good one,” he declares, rummaging around in his backpack for another book. His little aha when he finds the one he’s looking for is criminally adorable, and Steve feels a surge of fondness sweep through him.

“Hey,” he says, curling his finger in a “come here” motion. Bucky does, smiling down at Steve as he leans in for a kiss. Steve pulls him back in when Bucky tries to break their kiss, opening his mouth a bit and letting Bucky tease his tongue inside. Steve tugs harder at Bucky’s shirt, trying to pull him down into his lap, and Bucky chuckles before stumbling a bit and cracking his foot against one of the chair legs.

“Ow!” He hisses, straightening up. He shoves lightly at Steve’s shoulder with a little “you jerk! Just had to get your mouth on me, and look what happens! My poor foot!” Steve laughs at him and turns back to the desk so he can continue sketching.

Bucky settles back in on the bed and starts reading again. He falls silent after a few pages, and Steve looks over to find Bucky fast asleep, the open book laying on his chest. Worry settles in Steve’s stomach, dull and heavy, and he walks over to cover Bucky with a blanket and turn off the bedside lamp. He drops a kiss onto Bucky’s forehead and brushes his thumb across the thin skin under Bucky’s right eye. Gods, he hopes Bucky is okay. He’s probably not sick because he never gets sick, but there’s clearly _something_ going on.

Bucky wakes with a snort less than an hour later. Steve chuckles and puts his pencil down on his sketchbook. His almost-full sketchbook. Time for a new one. Bucky groans, and Steve turns to watch him stretch the sleep out of his muscles.

“Hey,” Bucky says around a yawn. “The clouds are supposed to be light tonight. Will you come up to the greenhouse?”

“‘Course, Buck.”

“Bring your sketchbook, yeah?”

“Sure, if you want.”

Bucky’s right, the clouds are sparse that night. He tells Steve stories about the constellations, and Steve illustrates the story, leaving Bucky room in the corner of the page to add in the star chart and constellation’s name. Tonight it’s a story about how the constellation Seqha was made when a good god shot arrows through the darkness an evil god had put into the sky to block out the sun and kill the world. It’s all suitably heroic, and exactly the kind of thing Bucky loves. Which is why Steve’s so surprised when Bucky falls asleep before the ending.

Steve sets his sketchbook down and crawls over to Bucky, shaking him awake by the shoulder. “Buck. Hey, Bucky! Wake up!”

Bucky sniffles and groans, waking up slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Steve?”

“Bucky, what the hell is going on? You keep falling asleep. Are you all right?”

“‘M fine, Steve, don’t worry. Just tired is all.”

“Why are you tired? Are you not sleeping at night or what?’

Bucky shrugs and stands up, gathering the blanket he was laying on and folding it, laying it gently on one of the greenhouse shelves next to a couple other blankets and pillows.

“Buck…”

“It’s nothing, okay? I’m alright.”

Steve sighs and nods and lets it lie. It’s late, and they’re both tired, and Steve’s willing to wait and see it Bucky will tell him what’s going on without Steve having to pry it out of him.

The next week, Bucky falls asleep in the middle of math class, startling awake when the teacher comes over and leans down to wake him. Steve strains to hear what she says, but all he can make out is “...okay...not like you...sure.” Bucky nods and apologizes, and Steve sees the blush creeping up his neck. He keeps his head toward the front of the class as the teacher goes back up to continue the lesson, but his eyes glance over to Steve once before snapping back. He ignores Steve the rest of the class and avoids him the rest of the school day.

Winifred lets Steve into their apartment later that evening and tries to get him to eat some leftovers from dinner. “I’ll make you a plate. Are you hungry?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head and thanks her anyway. “Another time,” he promises. “I really need to talk to Bucky about something. Is he in?”

Freddie shakes her head. “He’s up on the roof. He’s been spending a lot of time there whenever he’s not with you. Wait, take some cookies with you when you go up, won’t you? There’s a dear.”

Freddie’s an excellent baker, so that’s no hardship at all. Armed with cookies and determined to get to the bottom of this Bucky situation, Steve makes his way to the roof. He pauses when he sees Bucky in the greenhouse: he’s sitting on the floor in a pile of pillows and blankets, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped. He looks miserable. Steve’s heart clenches but his determination doesn’t waver.

He must hear Steve approach: he’s not being subtle or anything. But Bucky doesn’t move, just keeps his head in his hands. “Here,” Steve holds out a cookie for Bucky. “Your mom gave me these to give to you.”

Bucky sighs and reaches up, taking the cookie and biting into it angrily. Steve sort of flops down next to Bucky in an effort to draw a smile out of him, but it doesn’t work. So he sits up and leans over until their shoulders are touching.

It’s not dark yet. Both suns are low in the sky, but neither has started setting yet. Steve sits next to Bucky and listens to him chew, and they work through the cookies in silence.

The suns set an hour ago when Bucky points to a star in the sky. “See that star? And the one next to it? Keep going like this,” Bucky traces a curved line in the sky with his finger, “and you have the constellation Te. Some people say it’s named after the curve of an ancient river, and others say it’s named after the curve of a pregnant belly. I doubt we’ll ever know for sure. Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s both. You know what it looks like to me?”

“What?”

“It looks like the curve of your spine. Sometimes when you’re asleep, I’ll trace it with my fingertips and ask it to be kind to you the next day, ask it not to hurt you. It’s the same shape, you know, your spine and Te. I don’t think that’s a coincidence, somehow.”

“Bucky, I —”

“What are your dreams about? The ones about me, I mean. You’ve been having them for years, and I never asked for details, Steve. Not once. But I think I need to know now.”

Steve sighs and rubs the skin between his thumb and index finger on his right hand. The way Bucky sounds right now, distant, like he’s deep in thought even while he’s talking, worries Steve. He’s not sure this is going to help, but... “I wake up in my apartment, and I hear you calling my name. You’re outside, so I go out to find you. When I leave the building, the scenery changes and we’re on another planet. We’re always on different planets. We explore for a while, and you’re always so damn happy. But then…”

“Then?” Bucky prompts when Steve trails off.

“Then this shadowy mist thing starts creeping into the landscape. Your behavior doesn’t change, so I think you don’t notice. But I do. It just eats up more and more of the world around us, and I can’t move and I can’t talk, so I can’t warn you when it comes for you, too. Then I wake up for real.”

“_Cacat,_ Stevie,” Bucky breathes, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulder and pulling him close. Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s head and sighs. “That sounds awful.” Steve just shrugs and lets Bucky hold him. They’re silent for a while, both of them processing what Steve just said. Steve thinks Bucky wants to ask more questions but is afraid to know, and Steve can’t blame him. If it’s a Sight dream, and chances are good it is, then it’s not hard to figure out at least part of the meaning: Bucky’s going to get lost in something and won’t see it coming.

Bucky pulls Steve out of his reverie when he starts talking again. “I’ve been spending nights in the greenhouse. I can’t stop coming up here, even when the clouds are covering the sky. There’s this pull in my gut, and it’s so strong, Steve, and I can’t ignore it. I don’t sleep. I just stare at the sky until I pass out. And I’m scared,” Bucky admits, voice breaking. “I’m scared because this pull is as strong as my pull toward you, and what the gods does that mean? What does it _mean,_ Steve?”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and holds him tight. “I don’t know, Buck. I’m so sorry. But I don’t know.”

They hold each other for a while, silent in the dark of the night. Steve rubs circles on Bucky’s waist with his thumb. “Hey,” he whispers into Bucky’s shoulder. “Want me to ask Mender Bruce? He’s been off world before. He may know what’s going on. Or at least where to look.”

Bucky thinks about it for a bit and then nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Steve.”

“I’ll go after school and meet you up here when I get back.” Bucky nods.

“Okay.”

~~~

Steve knocks lightly on Mender Bruce’s office door the next afternoon. The door is cracked, and Steve can hear Bruce shuffling around in his office, but Steve doesn’t want to just barge in. Or, well, he does kind of, but he knows that would be rude, so he doesn’t.

“Come in,” Bruce calls out, sounding slightly harried. “Oh, hi, Steve,” he says, frowning. “Did we have an appointment today that I forgot about?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just had a couple of questions I’d like to ask you, if you’re not too busy.”

“Of course, please sit down. You know I’m always available for you.” Bruce motions toward two comfortable chairs that face each other at one end of his office. Steve sits down and rubs at the skin between his thumb and index finger. Bruce sits down across from him and waits patiently for Steve to start talking.

“I have this friend. And he’s...well, he’s not sleeping well. He spends his nights looking out at the sky, even when the cloud cover is so thick you can’t see any stars. He says he feels this pull, a compulsion I guess, and he has to look up there and be up at night as much as possible. He devours any book on space that he can get his hands on.”

Bruce is frowning when Steve looks at him, the creases in his forehead almost as deep as the wrinkles on his shirt. “How long has this been going on? And how old is your friend?”

“He’s a few months older than me, so 17. He’ll be 18 in Martius. I don’t know exactly how long it’s been going on. Four or five weeks, at least. He’s always been interested in space, though, for as long as I’ve known him. Just not to this degree.”

“What else have you noticed about him that’s different from you? Or things he’s always liked, or something about him that’s been there for years. Anything you can think of.”

“Um. Well, he never gets sick? I get sick all the time, and he spends time with me when I’m sick, and he’s never once gotten sick, too. We joke about it most of the time.”

“Steve...is this B— wait, no, don’t tell me. Don’t tell me who you’re talking about. Just give me a minute to think.” Bruce stands up and starts pacing around the room, hands tugging on his hair. He’s muttering to himself, and it looks to Steve like he’s trying to come to a decision about something. Steve leaves him be for about five minutes before he can’t take it anymore.

“Bruce, what is it?”

Steve’s voice startles Bruce, and he jumps slightly like he forgot Steve was even there. He sighs heavily and drops back onto the chair he was sitting on before. “Steve, before we go any further with this, you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone but your friend what I’m about to tell you.”

“Bruce, what —”

“Promise me, Steve. Not a word to anyone but Bucky.”

“I promise. Wait, how did you —”

Bruce flaps his hand in Steve’s direction. “He’s your best friend, and your age. I put two and two together. Now, tell me what you know about the Gifts.”

“Uh, only what we’ve been taught in school. And a little of what my ma has said, and what you’ve taught me.”

“And what do they teach you in school? Indulge me.”

“That the Gifts were made when the universe exploded into being, and they’re rare and very special. There’s the Mender, the Guide, and the Seer. You can be a mechanical or medical Mender, like you, and they fix things. Or people. The Guide is really good with directions and can always find their way and shit like that. A Seer will have waking premonitions or Sight dreams, but sometimes people have both. People who have a Gift almost always end up devoting their lives to help others. It’s a great honor to have a Gift, at least that’s what they say. Sometimes I wonder.”

Bruce had nodded through Steve’s speech, and he nods again. “That’s all true, or mostly true anyway. But there’s a fourth Gift that is incredibly rare. I don’t know why they didn’t teach you about this — maybe because they figured Terra IV is so out of the way — but for whatever reason, they didn’t tell you.

“The fourth Gift is called a Voyager, and the Mark is a filled-in, five-pointed star on the left shoulder. Their bodies are designed for long-term space exploration in fascinating ways: they stop aging once they reach their culture’s equivalent of 30, and they can live for centuries. They can breathe in almost any atmosphere without needing atmo conditioning. They don’t get sick. And they feel an overwhelming compulsion to explore other worlds.”

Steve’s sure Bruce keeps talking, but he can’t hear anything else over the ringing in his ears. That sounds like Bucky. Bucky is a Voyager. _His_ Bucky.

“...people mainly treat them like they are sacred and welcome them whenever they visit. It’s considered extremely unlucky and taboo to harm a Voyager. They’re also really good storytellers, and they’ll often pay back hospitality with stories of other worlds and the wonders they’ve seen. They have a Voyager world that’s like a home base, but only Voyagers are allowed there, so I’ve never seen it. I don’t even know what it’s called.”

“Does this mean he’s going to leave?” Steve looks up at Bruce, whose face goes soft at Steve’s question. Well. That’s all the confirmation he needs, isn’t it?

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve nods and stands abruptly, scraping the chair against the floor with a screech. He winces, but Bruce waves it off and pulls Steve in for a hug. He pats Steve on the back twice before releasing him and sending him on his way.

Steve opts to walk home and spends the entire hour dreading the conversation he and Bucky are about to have..

He meets Bucky in the greenhouse that night and tells Bucky all about Voyagers: how Bucky will leave and explore space. How he can’t get sick and can survive in almost any atmosphere. How he’ll stop aging around 30 and live an extra long life. How he won’t be able to resist traveling. How he’s special to the point of sacredness now, he’s so rare. How he’ll get to meet all sorts of creatures and beings and people and whatever else.

Bucky stares out at the stars for a long, long time. “Why didn’t we learn about them before?”

“They’re really rare, Buck. And Terra IV has never had one. I guess they thought it wasn’t important, or that we weren’t important enough to have a Voyager visit, so there was no point.”

“What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Will you come with me?”

“Buck…”

“We’ll explore space together, won’t that be fun? I’ll tell you stories and you can keep me out of trouble. Or maybe you’ll get us into more trouble than we can handle, but at least we’ll be together. Doesn’t that sound good? It does. It sounds amazing.” Steve can hear the desperation in Bucky’s voice.

“Hey, hey,” Steve says, softly. He lays his head on Bucky’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him. “You know I’d go with you if I could.”

Bucky nods and chokes back a sob. “I know you would.”

~~~

On Bucky’s 18th birthday, he comes over before school and locks himself in Steve’s bedroom before Steve can get a word in edgewise. Bucky’s eyes are red, and there are tear streaks on his cheeks. He won’t meet Steve’s eyes, and Steve can feel the dread creeping through his stomach.

Bucky pulls off his shirt and turns the left side of his body toward Steve, and there it is: a five-pointed star about five inches high on Bucky’s upper arm. It’s dark red and looks like a tattoo, and Steve wonders if it hurt when it showed up.

Bucky puts his shirt on and looks up at Steve, and he looks so lost and so young, so gods-damn _young_, it takes Steve’s breath away. He aches for him. He rushes over and throws himself in Bucky’s arms and holds him while he falls apart.

~~~

Their parents let them skip school that day. And the next day. They spend them together, trying desperately to ignore the fact that Bucky will be leaving soon. Bucky is trying so hard, telling stories and reading aloud, but he keeps drifting out in the middle of sentences, a faraway look in his eyes. Steve chokes down tears every time, then leans in and kisses Bucky gently on the corner of his mouth. Bucky will snap back and smile at Steve and pick up where he left off, but Steve feels flayed to the bone. He can’t shake the feeling of dread that’s stuck low in his chest.

Bucky’s family get a holo from a woman with red hair three days later. She introduces herself and shows her Voyager mark, says she and another Voyager named Sam are and on their way to collect Bucky. They’ll be there within two weeks, which is...an eternity and nothing, and Steve throws a book when he finds out. Bucky drops out of school because what’s the point anymore? Sarah takes a morning off work and goes to the school to talk to Steve’s teachers and Principal Morita, and they agree to let Steve miss class until Bucky leaves. Steve throws himself at his mother when she tells him, almost knocking her off her feet, and holds her tight. Bucky is gentler about it, but he holds her longer.

~~~

The days are short, and the nights are desperate, moving together frantically until they find release, there in their greenhouse under the clouds and the stars, limbs entwined as surely as their hearts.

~~~

Bucky is at home spending time with his family, and Steve knows he should be doing the work his teachers sent home for him, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. Instead he draws, filling page after page after page of sketches of Bucky smiling, Bucky laughing, Bucky animatedly telling a story, Bucky sleeping, Bucky blissfully fucked out, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. He wants it to be nighttime again so they can be together, but he also doesn’t because that means it’s one day closer to when Bucky leaves.

~~~

“I love you,” Steve whispers through the greenhouse glass, up toward the sky. He feels Bucky squeeze him tighter, so he knows he’s listening. “I love you so much, I don’t even know how to say it, you know? It feels too big for my body sometimes.”

Bucky whimpers softly and shifts closer so he can tuck his forehead against Steve’s bony shoulder.

“I don’t want you to worry about me while you’re gone, okay? I’m gonna be okay. I want you to explore and see the stars you love so much and meet new people. Or creatures. Beings. Whatever you encounter, all across the universe, I want you to experience it all to the fullest. So if you...if you meet someone, and you want to be with them, you should. Don’t worry about me. Or us. What we have, what we mean to each other; that’s never going to change. I don’t want to drag you down or hold you back. I just want you to be happy, Buck. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Steve closes his eyes and swallows hard against the burning ache in his throat, waiting for Bucky to say something, anything. Bucky’s breathing harshly now, the sound sharp against Steve’s shoulder. He’s working up to something. Steve’s stomach clenches, his chest tightening more and more the longer Bucky doesn’t respond.

“Please say something,” Steve begs when the silence is too much to bear. Bucky pushes away from Steve and leans up on his forearm so he can look at Steve’s face in the dark.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Steve’s never heard his voice so small and tentative, and it’s wrong. This is all wrong. Steve’s heart is pounding now. He sits up and turns to face Bucky, who sits up, too, eyes cast down in fear of Steve’s answer. “No. Gods, no, Bucky. Never.”

“Then why? Why say that?”

“Bucky, you’re a _Voyager_.”

“No shit, Steve! What does that have to do with me cheating on you?”

“That’s not —” Steve cuts himself off, shaking his head and huffing in frustration. “Look, I’m not saying you _have_ to or anything. But Bucky, come on. You’re going to leave here and travel to incredible places and meet unbelievable beings. You’ll be revered and honored and treasured wherever you go. And you’ll be gone for years at a time, Buck, we both know that. If you even come back at all.”

“Steve —”

“No, just — just let me finish. I want you to know that I understand. Things are different out in space. They just are. I don’t want you to be lonely, okay? I don’t want you pining away for me and missing out on all the wonders of the universe, seeing and doing the things you’ve always dreamed about. And yeah, you like me fine because I’m here, I’ve always been here, but now you can have literally anyone in the universe! Why would you want to stay with me?”

“Gods _damn_ it, Steve.”

“You’re amazing, Buck. You’re incredible. You’re smart and funny and kind, so kind. You always want to help people. You take care of your family. You take care of me. You’re patient, and wonderful, and good.”

“Steve.”

“How can I compare to that? I’m angry and stubborn, and I fight too much. I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut. I get in way over my head and drag you down with me. I don’t deserve you. And that’s just personality! Physically —”

“Stop, Steve, please.”

Steve continues like Bucky hasn’t said anything. “I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous, Bucky. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And your body… You’re perfect. Everyone can see that.”

“_Steve_.”

“And look at me! I’m small and scrawny and scarred, and I’m sick all the time! My lungs barely work, my heart is weak, my spine is crooked. I can’t see color, I can’t hear out of my left ear. This planet is killing me, Bucky. I’ll probably be dead within ten years anyway, so why not get out while you can? You should! You should just leave and never come back!”

“Stop! Stop talking!” Bucky shouts, his voice breaking. Steve finally stops, eyes widening when he takes in Bucky’s face. There are tears streaming down his cheeks. He looks miserable, just completely defeated. Steve’s stomach roils as his throat tightens. He did that. He did that to Bucky. Shit, this isn’t at all how he wanted this conversation to go, but once again he let his temper get the better of him.

“Bucky…” Steve whispers, reaching his hand out. Bucky shakes his head, closing his eyes as he tilts his head down. Steve drops his hand and folds it into his other one on his lap so he’s not tempted to reach out again. He works at the skin between his thumb and index finger, watching Bucky’s shoulders shake as he sobs silently. Steve wrings his hands and lets his guilt consume him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers again once Bucky’s stopped crying. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” He trails off, unsure of what to say next. Because he did mean most of what he said, if he’s being honest with himself, and with Bucky. Just because Bucky’s never treated him like he wasn’t worthy of being loved doesn’t mean Steve truly believes it of himself. At least not all the time. It’s hard to believe in yourself when so much of the world is against you.

“What didn’t you mean?” Bucky says dejectedly, still looking down at the blanket.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, not on your last night here.”

Bucky looks up at Steve, his eyes wide with fear. ”Did you See it? Is that how you know? That it’s my last night, I mean.”

Steve looks away and shrugs his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers. He’s silent for a while, working through the implications of what Steve’s just revealed. “You weren’t going to tell me?”

Steve shrugs again. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So instead you, what? Give me permission to fuck someone else? Say all sorts of terrible, stupid shit about yourself? That’s how you wanted to spend our last night together, being an idiot?”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “You’re good at loving me, Bucky. You’re so good at that, and I’m so fucking lucky that you do. But it’s hard, you know? This life. This world. It wears on a person. It wears on me.”

Bucky shakes his head at Steve and huffs. “You’re too fucking young to say shit like that.”

“I’m just a realist, Buck. You’ve always been the optimist between the two of us. It’s the Sight, too. It sort of...forces you to confront things.” Steve smiles wistfully and reaches out. Bucky sighs and lets Steve pull him in. He tucks his face into Steve’s neck and breathes him in. Steve buries his nose in Bucky’s hair, the acid tang of the atmosphere thick amongst the strands. He starts stroking up and down Bucky’s back, slowly, so slowly. They’re both silent a while, the sound of Steve’s hand dragging across Bucky’s skin the loudest sound in the greenhouse.

“Are you gonna?” Bucky asks into Steve’s neck.

“Am I gonna what?”

“Find someone else while I’m gone?”

Steve’s instinct is to say no right away, _that’s ridiculous, why would I want to do that? Who would even_ want _me_? But he stops and thinks about what Bucky’s asking. He wants to give Bucky the dignity of his question.

“I don’t know, Buck.” Bucky nods against his neck like he was expecting that answer. “I guess it depends on a lot of things. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. I don’t know what the future holds for us.

“I do know that now, _right now_, I don’t want to. I don’t think I’ll ever want to. It’s hard to imagine myself with anyone but you. And even if there is ever someone else, I doubt I’ll ever love them as much as I love you.”

Bucky lifts his head and sits up to look Steve in the eyes. “It’s the same for me, you idiot. I don’t care what incredible beings I may meet. I’ll never love anyone like I love you.” He reaches out and cups Steve’s face with his hand, leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Steve wraps his hands in Bucky’s shirt and pulls him down to the blanket below.

~~~

Steve’s still awake hours later when Sylvar starts slowly rising over the horizon, its reddish glow creeping through the windows. Bucky sniffles and pulls Steve closer, burying his face in his hair. Steve closes his eyes and lets a tear fall, then another. He rolls to face Bucky and tucks his nose up against Bucky’s collarbone, looping his arm around his waist and his leg over Bucky’s. It’s his favorite place to be in the whole world, curled up with Bucky like this.

It hits Steve then, that he might never have this again. He tries to hold back more tears, but it’s impossible in the face of that realization, and Bucky shushes him and whispers promises and little comforts as Steve shakes apart.

Bucky’s combing his fingers through Steve’s hair and humming softly when he comes back to himself, tears all dried up. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he whispers to Bucky’s collarbone.

“I’m gonna miss you, too. But I’ll be back, Steve. I promise. I’ll come back for you. I’ll always come back for you, no matter how far I go. Do you believe me?”

Steve nods weakly.

“Tell me you believe me, Steve,” Bucky says, his voice thick with desperation. Steve’s not sure who Bucky is trying to convince, but he nods firmly anyway.

“I believe you,” he whispers, not sure if it’s the truth or a kindness.

Sylvar is fully risen now, and Engardial’s breaking the horizon. It won’t be long before they come for Bucky and take him away.

He sighs and pushes away from Bucky, who grunts and tries to pull Steve back to him. Steve huffs and drops a kiss on Bucky’s shoulder. “Lemme go. I have something for you. I don’t want you to leave without taking it.”

Bucky grunts again and lets Steve go. He shuffles over to a shelf and grabs a small parcel before sitting back down across from Bucky.

Bucky is sitting up now, head tilted like he’s trying to figure out what Steve’s got in his hands. He’s so beautiful in the morning light. Steve’s heart clenches in his chest and lets himself memorize this moment: the way Bucky’s hair has curled out of its product overnight, the way the light sharpens his cheekbones and makes him look older than his 18 years, the way he’s looking at Steve like he’s the only thing in the entire universe that matters.

Steve holds out his gift. “I want you to have this, Bucky. It’s important to me that you have this.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows and runs his fingertips over the red paper Steve used to wrap the gift. It’s the same color as the star on his shoulder, and Bucky unconsciously reaches up to touch it. Steve tracks the movement before looking back at Bucky’s face.

Bucky rubs the paper gently again before pulling it open. He gasps and looks up. “Steve, I…” He trails off and looks back down at the package. “I can’t accept this.” He picks up Joseph Rogers’ compass tenderly and strokes the curve of the metal case. “This is all you have left of your father.”

“I know. But I want you to have it. Open the lid.”

Bucky shakes his head but does as Steve asks. He covers his mouth with his hand when he sees what’s inside and looks up at Steve, shaking his head. He closes his eyes and puts the compass on the blanket beside him before holding his face in his hands and leaning over to cry. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and waits.

“Did you paint this yourself?” Bucky asks when he’s worked through his tears.

“Yeah, I did. I made the paints from different minerals and stuff, which is why there aren’t many different colors.”

“It’s beautiful, Steve.” Steve looks down at the compass lid as Bucky runs his finger around the circumference. Inside is a small piece of weathered tin, covered with a portrait miniature of Steve’s face and shoulders. It’s a pretty good likeness, if Steve says so himself.

“They used to do this on Terra Prime a long time ago. Before photos and scanners and holos and all of that. People gave painted portraits to their loved ones, called them portrait miniatures. So now you’ll have me with you, no matter what part of the universe you’re in.” Steve gives Bucky a wistful smile.

Bucky closes the compass and kisses the lid before kissing Steve. “Thank you,” he whispers. “It’s perfect.”


	4. Chapter 4

News travels fast on Terra IV, and by the time the sleek spacecraft touches down at the airfield, everyone knows why it’s here. A woman with red hair and a man with dark skin disembark to a certain amount of fanfare, courtesy of the planet’s council. Chancellor Bradley Rumlow gives a little speech, and then they bring Bucky over to meet the other Voyagers. They embrace him warmly, a smile on the male Voyager’s face.

Steve’s standing with the rest of Bucky’s family. Bucky had asked him to be there, and Steve had agreed, but now, seeing Bucky with the people who will take him away, who will help train him and will be able to be with Bucky when Steve can’t, it feels like a mistake. It feels like a ball of metal rolling around inside his stomach.

Chancellor Rumlow closes the festivities and gestures the Voyagers, Bucky’s family, and Steve toward a transport vehicle. They all pile in, and Steve is surprised when Rumlow programs in the coordinates for the apartment building. He looks between Bucky and Steve and gives them a tight smile before addressing Bucky’s parents. “I thought you might like a little time to get to know these Voyagers before they left with your son, and for you to be able to say your goodbyes in private.”

It’s a surprisingly kind gesture, and Steve wonders how the man’s son turned out to be such a dick.

Everyone is silent as the transport starts moving. Steve feels Bucky take his hand and squeeze it before threading their fingers together. He looks at Bucky, but he’s staring at the Voyagers sitting on the bench seat in front of them. The male Voyager, feeling the stares at the back of his head, raises his right hand and twists it so his palm is facing them before giving a jaunty little wave of his fingers. Steve snorts and watches Bucky roll his eyes before smiling and tilting his head in a ‘can you believe this guy?’ gesture.

The man turns his head, a big smile splitting his face. He’s really handsome, Steve can’t help but notice, with the most adorable gap between his front teeth. Handsome and funny  _ and _ a Voyager to boot. Great. Steve smiles back at the guy, a tight, little thing, before looking away, turning his head to look out the window next to him.

The guy turns back to face forward again, and Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand again. Steve sighs and squeezes back.

It’s still awkward when they arrive at the apartment complex, awkward as they all make their way into the Barnes’s apartment. Sarah is there waiting for them, and she looks from face to face, her eyebrows raising higher with each person she looks to. She’s the only one willing to break the silence, it seems, as she asks, “Would anyone like some tea? I’ll go make some.”

She turns to the kitchen without giving anyone the chance to answer, returning with a tray full of teacups and cookies and other refreshments. Once everyone has helped themselves, the female Voyager finally speaks up. “My name is Natasha Romanov. I was born on Terra III. This is Sam Wilson. He’s from Terra Prime. We travel together on occasion. The League of Voyagers asked us to come today because we are the only two other Voyagers from the Terra system, and they thought it might be nice to start with some familiar-ish faces.”

“We’re here to collect Bucky and introduce him to Voyager life, but we’re also here to answer any questions you might have,” Sam Wilson adds. “Bucky, why don’t we start with you? Then when we’ve answered any questions you may have, you can pack your things while we give your parents a few moments to talk with us alone. How does that sound?”

Bucky nods and swallows hard. Sam is calm and kind, and Steve feels his earlier jealousy melt away. He’s glad Bucky will have someone like Sam showing him the ropes. He can’t get a read on Natasha yet. She seems fine, he supposes. Beautiful but empty, like a glass bottle. Not that she doesn’t seem smart and capable. Just...hollow, in a way Steve can’t put his finger on. And it doesn’t really matter what he thinks of her, he supposes, as long as she’ll be good to Bucky.

Speaking of. “What happens when we leave?” Bucky asks. He’s trying so hard to be brave, and Steve loves him so much, but Steve can hear the anxiety in his voice.

“We’ll take you to Alsoten-Ra, the Voyager home world. That’s where the League is based. Once we get there, you’ll be given a home and a spaceship, and a bunch of other equipment. You’ll receive training for at least six months before you’re tested to see if you’re ready to go off-world. When you pass the testing, you’ll make your first trip off-world, accompanied by one or two other Voyagers. You’ll spend a few months doing that, and if all goes well, you can strike out on your own after that, if you so choose. Some Voyagers partner up or travel in groups, which you’re also welcome to do,” Natasha explains as Bucky nods along.

“When can I come back here to see everyone?” Bucky asks, and Steve is suddenly a lot more interested in this answer.

“Not for at least a year, provided everything goes well and you pass all your training tests and things like that,” Sam says gently. “But after that, you can come back for a visit.”

“How often do you two go back to your home planets to visit?”

Sam looks at Natasha, who shakes her head. “Not much left for either of us there. We’re both at least a couple centuries old, Bucky,” Sam says gently.

“Right,” Bucky says, swallowing hard. “That’s...I, um —.”

“Buck —” Steve starts, but is cut off when Bucky stands abruptly.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll have lots more questions later. I’m gonna go finish packing. Steve, will you join me, please?”

“Uh, sure, Buck.”

Bucky gets up and all but flees to his bedroom. Steve follows, looking back at Bucky’s parents with a shrug. Winifred has tears rolling down her cheeks, and George doesn’t look too far behind. Becca just looks dazed. She’s only 10, and Steve wonders just how much she’s really absorbing what’s going on. Steve watches George wrap his arm around Freddie’s shoulder and pull her to him. 

“What questions can we answer for you?” Sam says to Bucky’s family, right as Steve walks into Bucky’s room. He shuts the door behind him, letting out a little “oof” as Bucky barrels into him as soon as the door clicks closed. 

“Hey, hey,” Steve soothes, running one hand down Bucky’s back as the other curls around his waist to draw him in. “Bucky.” Bucky has his face tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck, and it can’t be comfortable for him to bend himself down like that, but he doesn’t seem to give a damn at the moment. He’s not crying, but he is breathing raggedly, and Steve holds him there against the door and whispers sweetly into Bucky’s ear.

They startle at the knock on the door but don’t pull away from each other. “Yeah?” Steve croaks. 

“Can I come in?” It’s Sam. Bucky stands up but doesn’t move away from Steve yet. “Yeah,” he says. “Just a second.” He leans down and kisses Steve softly before stepping back, pulling Steve with him. “Come on in, Sam.”

Sam opens the door a crack and peeks his head in before coming fully into the room. Steve snorts and crosses his arms. “We weren’t doing anything like that.”

Sam gives a tilted little nod and puts his hands up. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I just don’t need to  _ see _ it, you know? I barely know you.”

“Meaning you’d be okay seeing it if you did know us?” Bucky asks, a smirk on his face, and Steve has to hand it to Sam: he sure is good at putting people at ease.

“Ask me again when I know you,” Sam says with a little eyebrow waggle. Bucky huffs out a laugh and goes to sit down on his bed next to the large duffel full of clothes and a few books and whatever other trinkets he’s packed.

Sam nods to the bag. “You all set?”

“You tell me,” Bucky shoots back. “I’ve got clothes, a few of my favorite books, some mementos from home. Anything else I need?”

“Got your toothbrush?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Plenty of clean underwear?”

“Oh,  _ cacat, _ you’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?” Bucky says, but he’s laughing, so Sam doesn’t take offense.

“Ooh,  _ cacat, _ that’s a new one. What’s it mean?”

“It means ‘shit,’” Steve answers. 

“ _ Cacat. _ I like it.”

“What curse words do you know that we don’t?”

Steve smiles at Bucky. Always asking the important questions, that one.

“Strap in, boys,” Sam says, cracking his knuckles, “because I’m about to take you on a ride.”

Sam really does know an impressive amount of curses, as it turns out. Steve’s sides hurt from laughing so hard. Bucky and Sam are deep into a conversation about some truly ridiculous protocols beings follow on different planets, and Steve takes the opportunity to just drink Bucky in. He looks happy, truly happy, for the first time in weeks. Maybe longer than that. Maybe he hasn’t been truly happy since he presented as a Voyager. 

But watching him now, talking animatedly with Sam, he looks in his element. It’s...gods, it hurts knowing that he’s not the one making Bucky that happy, but it’s also a relief in a way. All Steve wants is for Bucky to be happy. Of course, he’d prefer it be with him, but that’s not going to happen, so this is definitely the next best thing. Definitely.

There’s a knock on the door before it opens, revealing Natasha. “Hey, you just about done in here?”

Sam looks to Bucky, who looks to Steve. Steve forces himself to nod. Bucky’s eyes are wide as he nods back and stands up. The three of them shuffle out of the room in silence, Sam grabbing Bucky’s things from the bed. Bucky’s parents and sister hug him tightly and say their private goodbyes before everyone goes out of the apartment building and piles back into the transport vehicle. Once they get back to Sam and Natasha’s ship, there will be a little sending-off ceremony, and then Bucky will be gone.

Steve’s sitting next to Bucky in the transport, their shoulders and legs pressed tightly together. Bucky’s leg is bouncing, so Steve reaches down and puts his hand on his knee and squeezes. Bucky huffs and bumps his leg into Steve’s, but the bouncing stops. 

For a minute or two. This time Steve says, “hey, it’s only a year, right? Before you can come back to say hi? That’s not too long. I’m sure it will go by in a flash. I bet you’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to miss us.”

“Yeah,” Becca chimes in from the row behind Bucky. “And now that you’re leaving, I get your room since it’s bigger. Plus, mom and dad will be so upset that they’ll probably let me do whatever I want, so that’s gonna be fun.”

“Rebecca!” Freddie admonishes, ruffling her hair to show she isn’t really upset.

“I’m going to go to the library and find a book that isn’t about space,” George adds.

“The grocery bill is going to go way down,” Freddie sighs happily. “I won’t have to buy so many tissues and lotion, either.”

Bucky chokes as everyone but Becca starts to laugh. “Ma-a!” Bucky whines. 

“I don’t get it,” Becca complains.

“Oh, I’ll tell you when you’re a bit older, dear,” Freddie replies.

Bucky grumbles and looks out the window at the passing scenery, but Steve can tell he’s smiling.

There’s a little privacy tent set aside for them when they reach the launch area. Chancellor Rumlow tells Bucky to take a few minutes if he needs them, so he does. His family is crying again and holding each other tight. Steve overhears Freddie telling Bucky to be careful, and George telling him to be brave. Becca just cries as Bucky squeezes her tight and picks her up off the ground.

Then he’s in front of Steve, pulling him in for a kiss. Bucky pulls away first and leans his forehead against Steve’s. Steve keeps his eyes closed and breathes Bucky in. “I love you,” he whispers. “Now go make me proud.”

Bucky nods and steals one more kiss. And then he’s gone, walking out of the tent with Sam and Natasha and Chancellor Rumlow to start the ceremony.

It’s lovely, Steve guesses. He can’t be assed to pay attention, and he doesn’t think anyone would really blame him. Bucky looks so handsome and strong and grown standing there on the little dais as people make speeches and clap each other on the back or whatever it is they’re doing. There’s some sort of ritual benediction or blessing or whatever. Steve can tell Bucky is fighting to not roll his eyes, and he almost snorts during a moment of silence.

There’s cheering and smiling, and Bucky looks out at Steve one last time, a wistful half-smile on his face. He turns to the spaceship, boards with Sam and Natasha, and then he’s gone.

He’s gone.

Steve feels like his strings have been cut. He makes it home somehow — probably thanks entirely to George and Freddie — and maybe he eats a little, and he definitely falls asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s waking up gasping for air after having his usual Sight dream about Bucky. 

And that, Steve supposes, is that.

~~~

“How have you been feeling lately?”

Steve shrugs.

“Do you want to talk about Bucky?”

“No,” Steve replies sullenly.

“Okay. Is there anything you  _ do _ want to talk about?”

“No.”

Bruce sighs and makes some notes on his tablet. “Okay, Steve, that’s fine. Why don’t you get changed and we’ll just move on to your physical exam, okay?”

“Whatever.”

Steve goes behind the changing screen and takes off his clothes and puts on the gown thing Bruce left for him. He sighs. He knows it’s not Bruce’s fault he’s been miserable, and he really shouldn’t be taking it out on him, it’s just...his birthday was two days ago, and it’s the first time he can remember that Bucky wasn’t there for it. That and...well.

He hops up onto the exam table when he’s done changing, opening up the top half of the gown so Bruce can scan his upper body. Bruce comes over, face buried in his tablet, and freezes when he sees Steve’s chest.

There on his right pectoral is his Seer’s mark: a circle with three narrow, evenly spaced concentric circles around it. Turns out they don’t hurt when they show up, they just itch for a couple of days.

Steve follows Bruce’s gaze and looks down, too. “I don’t know why this isn’t the Guide’s mark. It looks kind of like a bullseye to me.”

Bruce frowns. “It does, kind of. I think maybe it’s supposed to represent an eye? Or maybe a brain with like fancy thought circles? I don’t actually know.”

“You’re taking this pretty well.”

“Well...I suspected.”

“I figured.”

“So, sight dreams or premonitions?”

“Um, both. I think.”

“What do you mean both?”

“Well, I have more dreams than premonitions, but I’ve had both.”

Bruce whistles. “You’re not supposed to have both. It’s supposed to be one or the other.”

“Well, yay for me, I guess.”

“Steve —”

“No, this is  _ cacat, _ Bruce. I had a dream last week where my body just faded away until only my head was left. What the fuck does that even mean? ‘Cause I’ll tell you what I  _ think _ it means, and that is my body is going to break down but my mind will be fine. With all my health problems, it makes sense. You know it does. So if it’s all the same to the universe, if I’m going to die young, I’d rather not have to deal with Gift shit on top of that.”

Bruce nods and they’re both quiet for a moment, letting Steve’s words hang in the air. He starts talking after a bit. “When I was a kid, I loved science and learning about how things worked. I used to take apart our appliances and stuff, try to find out how it worked, see if I could improve the function. It annoyed my dads to no end, but they never forbade it. They knew how much I loved it. 

“I started higher ed early, took loads of physics and mechanical engineering and electrical engineering and all sorts of classes. Anything I could take that had me building or working with machinery, I took it. Then I started focusing on interstellar travel and decided I wanted to build a travel system that wouldn’t use Xytar as its fuel source.

“No one was really surprised when I turned 18 and my Mender’s mark appeared. We figured it was mechanical, and I was  _ so _ excited. I just knew I was destined for great things. The Mender’s Guild sent someone to do my testing, and lo and behold, it turned out I was medical instead.”

“Oh. That must have been hard.”

“I was pissed. I was so angry. Just unbelievable levels of rage, Steve. For months, I was always angry. Angry that I was forced to give up my dream, angry that I had to learn all this medicine crap, angry that I had a Gift in the first place. It sure didn’t feel like a Gift at the time.”

“Felt more like a curse,” Steve whispers.

“Yeah. Whenever you hear about the Gifts, it’s always with such reverence and awe, but they never talk about the cost.”

Steve clenches his fists and looks down at his feet, trying to will the tears away, but it doesn’t work. He chokes on a sob, looking up when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Bruce is making his way to Steve with a soft “hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He pulls Steve in for a hug, and Steve lets himself be held as he falls apart.

“The thing was, though,” Bruce continues when Steve’e quieted some, “once I stopped being angry, I realized that the reason I wanted to solve the Xytar propulsion problem wasn’t because it was a fascinating mechanical issue. It was because of the very real life cost. No more Xytar, no more indentured. No more accidents. The list goes on. 

“So in the end, I’m right where I want to be, where I  _ should _ be.” Bruce gently pushes at Steve’s shoulders so he can look Steve in the eye. “I hope it works out that way for you, too, Steve, I really do.”

Steve nods and uses his shirtsleeve to wipe the tears and snot from his face. Bruce snorts, and Steve rolls his eyes but huffs back as Bruce reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Aw, Bruce! Jeez.”

~~~

The Seers Guild sends a small team of envoys a few weeks later, and they do a series of interviews and tests and things. Steve hates it but goes along with it anyway, mostly because he knows compliance will get them to leave faster.

Seeing is less science than the other Gifts, so it’s much harder to pin down exactly what a Seer’s precise Gift is and how it can be used. Steve thinks it’s stupid they’re here at all. It’s not like he can control his dreams and premonitions. They just happen. The envoys are intrigued and unsettlingly excited that he has both, and Steve’s happy when they leave after a week and he hasn’t had either.

They do assign a sort of assistant to Steve, a man named Jimmy Woo. Steve’s not sure what his job is, exactly, but mostly he figures he’s supposed to stay close to Steve and report back to the Seers Guild when anything happens. 

He’s all right, Steve supposes, for a snitch. It’s hard to stay surly at the guy: Jimmy is eternally optimistic and kind, and he talks a ton, but he has interesting stories to share most of the time. And he’s a surprisingly good listener. He’s just...he’s  _ always _ there, and Jimmy is not the person Steve wants at his side.

Since Steve medically can’t really leave Terra IV, and he doesn’t want to besides, the Seers Guild gave Steve special dispensation to spend his time as he chooses, as long as he and Jimmy make a tour around the planet once a month, just to see if it triggers any premonitions in Steve. 

Jimmy drives and talks while Steve sits and stares out the window of the vehicle and takes in the terrain. It’s pretty in a stark sort of way, he supposes. If you like rocks and desolate patches of harsh landscape.

They’re packing their transport for their second tour when Steve freezes. “Steve?” Jimmy calls out to him. “Steve, what’s happening?”

Steve can feel his eyes darting back and forth behind his eyelids, the feeling of “wrong! Danger! DANGER!” growing and growing, but Steve can’t pinpoint where or what, it’s just dangerdangerdangerdangerdangerdanger, the feeling stretching and pulling until it finally snaps to a pinpoint. Steve doubles over and clutches his head with a groan. Jimmy rushes to his side and grabs onto his shoulders to help him stand.

“Are you okay? Steve?”

Steve groans and nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Or I will be.” He leans down and spits the taste of bile from his mouth.

“What was that?”

“A premonition. A big one. I’ve never had one like that before. Jimmy, I need you to holo to the supervisor on duty at the Xytar fields. There’s something wrong with some equipment, and if they don’t shut down for a safety inspection, people are going to die.”

Jimmy wrings his hands. “ _ Cacat! _ Oh, gods, this is really happening. I didn’t really think — Okay, get in the car. I’ll holo on the way there.”

Steve nods again and climbs into the passenger seat, leaning his head on the window with a groan. He feels off-center, like someone blindfolded him and spun him around until he fell to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.

Jimmy has risen to the occasion and is using every ounce of what little authority he has to convince the Xytar field supervisor to shut production down. The man doesn’t seem too keen, but the closer they get to the fields, the more detail comes to Steve.

“Tell him it’s conveyor 4. Something is wrong with one of the hydraulic pistons.”

The supervisor pales as Jimmy relays the message. “Get here when you can,” he tells them before turning away from the screen to start barking orders about a systems shut down. “I don’t care what the —” is the last thing they hear before the holo screen goes black.

Jimmy glances over at Steve, his eyes wide. “Get us there as fast as you can, Jimmy,” Steve urges. Jimmy nods and swallows a couple of times before setting his jaw and increasing the speed on their transport.

When they get to the Xytar fields, there’s a full-on evacuation happening. At least, that’s what Steve thinks is happening. It’s pretty chaotic, truth be told, and Steve doesn’t know if this is par for the course or because of his message.

Someone notices them and knows where to take them, much to Steve’s surprise, and he and Jimmy find themselves with the supervisor in a sort of mobile command unit. They all fall silent and look to Steve when the supervisor explains why he’s there, and all he can do is shake his head and say, “one of the hydraulic pistons on conveyor 4 is going to malfunction, which will set off a small explosion, which will cause at least one Xytar tank to explode. Could be more, though. The premonition wasn’t too specific. I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got for you.”

“ _ Cacat, _ that’s enough, son,” the supervisor says, awe in his voice. “We’ve initiated the shut-down procedure and are evacuating all non-essential personnel. Once the system is offline, we’ll check out conveyor 4 and see what we find. You can leave, if you want. It’s going to be a few hours. We’ll holo you if we find anything.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’d rather stay, if it’s all the same to you.”

The supervisor shrugs. “Fine with me. You can sit over at that table, if you want. Let us know if you See anything else we’d need to know.”

“I will.”

It’s a long, tense wait. Steve sort of wishes he had his sketchbook, though he’s not sure he’d be able to concentrate if he did. Chancellor Rumlow shows up at one point and gives Steve a long, hard, undecipherable look before rushing off to help however Chancellors do when there’s an emergency. Someone brings food and water after a couple hours, and Steve didn’t realize how hungry he was until the food was right in front of him. 

Hours later, and just as Steve thinks he can’t quite take any more waiting, three engineers burst into the command center, and one exclaims, “it’s fixed! We’re all clear!”

A cry goes up in the command center, and Steve sees the supervisor sink into the nearest chair in relief. “What happened?” they ask.

The engineer points over at Steve. “He was right. There was a malfunction in one of the hydraulic pistons on conveyor 4. It wasn’t releasing all of its pressure when it disengaged, so it was slowly building and building and would have exploded in about an hour if we hadn’t shut down production. He saved a lot of lives today.”

Steve grunts at the praise, folding his arms over his chest. “Aren’t there any sort of warning systems in place for that sort of thing? It seems like there should be, especially if it’s something that can cause an explosion.”

The engineer looks over at the supervisor, who shakes his head slightly. “We aren’t at liberty to —”

“I’d be curious to hear the answer to that question, as well,” Chancellor Rumlow cuts in.

The engineer looks back to the supervisor, who sighs and tilts his head toward a chair. The engineer sits down and lets her supervisor take over. “There are systems in place. Except the sensors on conveyor 4 have been broken for months. I’ve filed report after report and made countless calls, but the Corporation hasn’t sent over the part necessary for the repairs. We’ve been trying as best as we can to work around the issue, but...there’s only so much we can do without that part.”

“Tell me what I can do to get you that part,” Rumlow says, his voice tight with anger.

“Honestly, sir, I think this incident is going to finally scare them into compliance.”

Rumlow nods. “You tell me if it doesn’t. I’m sure Mr. Rogers here would also be willing to testify to what happened today, if needed.”

“I absolutely would,” Steve confirms.

“Thank you both,” the supervisor says.

“Please be sure to send me a full report on the incident as soon as you have one,” Rumlow demands.

“Of course, sir. Thank you again. There’s nothing more we need today, if you’d like to leave. I’ll be sure to call if anything else comes up, and if the Corporation sends someone out.”

“Please do that, thank you.” Rumlow stands up and shakes all the employees’ hands. “Excellent work today, everyone. Truly. Mr. Rogers, Mr. Woo,” he says, turning toward Steve and Jimmy. “Would you care to accompany me outside?”

It’s not really a question, so Steve nods to Jimmy as he stands up. The three of them make their way out of the mobile command center where Rumlow asks them to accompany him in his transport, telling Jimmy he’ll send their transport back with one of his assistants. “I’ll drop you at your respective homes, don’t worry.” 

“Sure, I guess,” Steve grouses but climbs into the transport anyway. He doesn’t miss the way Jimmy tenses up once they’re inside, looking around to make sure there isn’t any outward sign of danger or anything. Steve thinks it’s pretty sweet, even though he doesn’t really think Jimmy could do anything to help if something did go sideways.

Rumlow waits until the transport is moving to start talking. “That was really something back there, what you did, Steve. Would you tell me exactly what happened, starting from your Premonition?” 

That is phrased as an actual request and not a demand, so Steve shrugs and does just that. Rumlow is quiet for a while after Steve finishes talking, clearly working through the day’s events in his mind.

“You said you were out driving around when you had your Premonition. What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “right. Well, after I presented as a Seer, the Seer’s Guild came, and since I can’t leave the planet, they assigned Jimmy to stay with me here on the condition that once a month we travel around the planet to see if it triggers any Premonitions. Today it did. Or maybe it was strong enough that it would have triggered no matter where we were. I’m not sure.”

“I’d like you to continue doing that, if you would, during weekdays. Both of you. Clearly you’re a valuable resource.”

“Well, I can’t control it. Things may happen that I don’t See at all.”

“I understand. Still, I think people would feel better knowing you were out there at all. You’ll both receive a stipend for this, of course. Think of it as your job now. I’ll have someone from my office meet with you in the next few days to work out the details.”

“Uh, okay, I guess. Sure. Jimmy, that okay with you?”

Jimmy shrugs. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Road trips!”

Steve snorts. Leave it to Jimmy to find the good in any situation.

“It’s settled, then. Let’s get you two home. Have you eaten? I’ll have food delivered.”

“There was food earlier at the command center, but —”

“I’ll have food delivered. Any allergies?”

“Uh, ground nuts.”

“Excellent.” The transport stops, and Steve looks out the window to find that they’re back at his apartment complex. “I believe this is you, Steve.”

“Yeah. It is. Thanks.”

“No, thank  _ you, _ Steve. You did an incredible thing today. We are all in your debt.”

Steve shrugs and looks over at Jimmy, who looks about three seconds away from crying. Steve rolls his eyes at him and pulls a face to show he’s not really mad. Jimmy snorts and tells Steve he’ll see him tomorrow. Steve gets out of the transport and heads into his building, waving over his shoulder as the transport pulls away.

“Steve! There you are!” his mother cries as he keys into his apartment. She runs over and wraps her arms around Steve’s neck. “Gods, I was so worried!”

“I’m fine, ma, really. Everything is fine.”

“I came home and you weren’t here, and there wasn’t a message, so I got worried. Then someone from the Xytar fields called and said you were there, that there was some sort of evacuation, and that they’d call again when they knew more. But no one called back.”

“Oh, ma, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Sarah pulls back to look at his face, reaching up with her hand to cup his cheek gently before putting it back on his shoulder. “It’s okay now, you’re here, and you’re safe. But what happened?”

Steve exhales heavily. “Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you, okay? Oh, and there’s food coming courtesy of Chancellor Rumlow.”

“What?! Steve —”

“Come sit, ma, and I’ll tell you.”

She joins Steve at the kitchen table, and he does just that. Sarah takes Steve’s hand once he’s done talking, and she looks him right in the eyes and says, “I’m so proud of you, Steven. You did an incredible thing today.”

“Oh, ma,” he huffs around a smile. Sarah reaches over and ruffles his hair and laughs when Steve squawks.

~~~

Steve and Jimmy settle into a new routine of traveling around the planet, going further than they had before and spending more time out. The stipend helps a lot; it’s enough for Steve and his mother to live comfortably, especially combined with her nurse’s salary. The government covers their overnight lodging, too, when they need it, if they’re too close to the Xytar fields that dot the planet and nighttime travel is too dangerous. 

Steve finds that he likes this, likes traveling around with Jimmy and helping people. He has a Premonition or two every week, some more serious than others, but it feels good to be useful like this. Jimmy settles some, too, and doesn’t grate on Steve’s nerves like he had when he’d first been assigned to accompany Steve, even if he still reports to the Seers Guild. They don’t talk about it, which suits Steve fine. 

He finds himself missing Jimmy on the weekend when they aren’t working. He fills part of the Bucky-sized hole in his life that Bucky left when he went away. Part of it. A fraction. A sliver. Steve wishes it were a larger part most days because it still hurts like hell to think of Bucky. He misses him like mad and thinks of him throughout the day, random times that he can’t predict or control. He dreams about him at night, sometimes Sight dreams and sometimes just regular old normal dreams. 

He takes to drawing Bucky while Jimmy is driving them around Terra IV. Sometimes it’s just Bucky, pages and pages of Bucky. Sometimes Bucky is in amongst the scenery around him as they drive. There’s a few pages of Jimmy and his ma and silly little things that pop into his head. But mostly it’s Bucky. He feels closer to him while he’s sketching him.

Steve looks at his desk one evening and realizes he has a stack of full sketch books, the bottom book started the day Bucky left. Which was… _ cacat, _ it’s been almost a year.  _ Which means Bucky could be coming home soon, _ Steve’s brain helpfully supplies. Steve’s stomach flutters and flops, and he rolls his eyes at himself for hoping, but gods, he hopes. 

He hopes for another three months before deciding hope is for suckers.

Steve’s worn out from their day of travel when he and Jimmy get to his building. He’d had a Premonition about a girl getting badly hurt, and they’d gotten there in time but just barely. Her parents had rightfully freaked out a bit, terrified by the thought of their child being injured, and all that bald emotion had worn Steve out. They’d been there most of the day, calming and soothing the family, and all Steve wants is to fall into bed and sleep for a week. And maybe some food. 

It’s almost dark, so Steve invites Jimmy up to his apartment for food and to crash on the couch for the night. Jimmy accepts, like he usually does whenever this happens. And anyway, Jimmy looks just as worn out as Steve feels, and he doesn’t feel comfortable letting Jimmy in the transport looking like that. He doesn’t need a Premonition to know that’s an accident waiting to happen.

Jimmy sighs happily when Steve unlocks the door and goes inside, calling out to see if his ma’s home from work yet. She’s supposed to be, but sometimes she stays later and picks up some overtime if they really need her. “In the kitchen!” she calls back, and Steve makes his way there after dropping his travel bag in the hallway.

“Jimmy’s here. He and I are beat. Is there any —” Steve freezes when he comes into the kitchen, grunting when Jimmy walks into him. 

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

Steve doesn’t answer. He’s too busy staring at the man sitting at their kitchen table with his ma. “Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says, pushing back his chair and standing up. “How’ve you been?” He gives a little wobbly smile that falls when Steve doesn’t answer. 

“Is it really you?” Steve gasps.

Bucky smiles again and takes a step forward. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m here.”

Steve makes a wounded little noise and bolts toward Bucky and jumps into his arms, forcing a grunt out of Bucky before kissing the hell out of him. They kiss and kiss and Bucky pulls back to laugh before setting Steve back down. “You’re heavier than you used to be,” he teases, and Steve smiles at Bucky’s dumb face. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and buries his face in his chest. 

“I  _ missed _ you.”

“I know. I missed you, too.”

They hold each other for a few moments before Jimmy lightly clears his throat. “You must be Bucky,” he says, making his way over and holding out his hand. “Steve’s told me so much about you. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Oh, Jimmy, I’m so sorry!” Sarah interjects as Bucky shakes his hand. “You must be starving. Let me fix you and Steve a plate.”

Bucky looks down at Steve and raises his eyebrows, and Steve rolls his eyes and says, “ugh. He’s just a friend, Buck. The Seers Guild assigned him to stay with me, and anyway, he’s too old for me. No offense, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, none taken there.”

“Are you staying the night?” Sarah asks.

“Um, well, I was going to. Too tired to drive home now. But I can leave if you need me to now that Bucky is back.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. There’s plenty of room for everyone.”

“Yeah, Jimmy, it’s fine. Bucky and I will go up to the roof anyway and spend the night there,” Steve says.

“The roof?”

“There’s this old greenhouse up there that’s still airtight and safe. We used to spend a lot of time there before Bucky left.”

“Their little love nest,” Sarah says with a smirk.

“Ma! Ugh!” Steve can feel his face heating up and just knows he’s going red, which Bucky confirms by tracing his finger down Steve’s blush, which is rapidly expanding down to his neck. Gods.

Jimmy just chuckles and gives them two thumbs up, and Steve would just love for a hole to open in the ground and swallow him whole.

They eat some food, and Bucky asks lots of questions about what everyone has been up to in his absence. Bucky changes the subject the first two times Jimmy tries to ask him a question, so he very diplomatically doesn’t ask again. Steve’s not sure why Bucky isn’t interested in talking, but he appreciates Jimmy for letting it lie. It can’t be easy to have a Voyager in front of you and not beg for information and stories. Maybe Jimmy has met some before and doesn’t feel the need. Steve will have to ask him about it later.

After dinner, Jimmy, bless him, very obviously yawns and excuses himself to get ready for bed after telling Bucky how nice it was to meet him and that he hopes he’ll come by again soon. Steve could hug him for that. Bucky gives him a little wave before turning to Steve and asking if he’s ready to go to the roof. Steve nods, and they head out the door.

Bucky grabs Steve’s wrist once they’re clear of the apartment and pulls him along as they make their way up to the roof and out to the greenhouse. Steve laughs and gripes at Bucky goodnaturedly, and Bucky keeps turning his head to look back at Steve, a smirk on his face. They burst through the door to the roof and sprint to the greenhouse; a habit, even though they’re safe at this height and at this distance from the Xytar fields. 

Steve’s breathless with laughter and from the exertion when he gets inside the greenhouse, flopping down into his nest of blankets and pillows that he still keeps up there. Bucky closes the door and hurls himself down next to Steve carelessly, drawing a squeal and a shouted “Bucky!” out of him.

Bucky laughs, and Steve reaches out his hand to find a pillow he can use to smack Bucky in the face. Bucky squawks when the pillow hits the mark. He drops his jaw and gasps at Steve before throwing a pillow back.

“Oh, it’s on now!” Steve shouts, and the two of them start fighting it out with the remaining pillows. That quickly devolves into tickling, then wrestling, and they’re laughing, both breathless with it. Bucky manages to roll Steve under him and grabs his wrists, pinning them over his head.

“Gotcha,” he quips, leaning in for a quick peck on Steve’s lips.

“I guess you do,” Steve says as he bucks his hips up hard in an effort to unseat Bucky. He doesn’t manage to do that, but he does manage to wipe the smile off Bucky’s face. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, rolling his hips ever so slightly. Steve sucks in a breath as arousal zips down his spine, settling low in his belly. He stares up at Bucky, whose eyes are blown, his mouth parted. He’s looking at Steve’s mouth, can’t tear his eyes away from it, so Steve slowly traces his bottom lip with his tongue. Bucky groans and flicks his eyes up to Steve’s. Steve nods, and then Bucky’s crashing their mouths together.

It’s rough and messy, their time apart throwing off their usual rhythm together, but Steve finds he doesn’t care because Bucky is  _ here, _ now, kissing the hell out of him. Bucky lets go of Steve’s wrists so he can tilt Steve’s face back and bite and lick at Steve’s jaw, at his throat. Steve groans and lets him, moving his hands up under Bucky’s shirt to feel the smooth expanse of his back.

Steve’s hard in his pants, his cock aching for some decent friction, so he pulls at Bucky’s hip until he can feel Bucky’s erection lined up with his. He starts grinding up, and it feels so good, breathy little moans punch out of him every time they move together.

Bucky starts whining high in his throat, beautifully needy, the sound going straight to Steve’s cock. He works his hand between their bodies and grabs at Bucky, rubbing him through his pants. Bucky grunts and pushes himself up until he’s straddling Steve’s lap. Steve hooks his finger into the waistband of Bucky’s pants and tugs them down gently. “Get these off, Buck,” he breathes.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. You too,” Bucky counters as he works at his fly. He gets his pants open, and Steve pauses to watch Bucky pull down his pants and underwear far enough to free his cock. It’s hard, so hard, a bead of precome welling at the tip. Steve wants to taste it, but he settles for reaching out and holding it in his hand. Bucky groans when Steve takes him in hand, and Steve strokes slowly from base to tip, gathering the wetness he finds there and spreading it back down the shaft.

Bucky throws his head back and thrusts into Steve’s hand. He’s beautiful like this, chasing his pleasure, and Steve’s balls ache with wanting him. He uses his other hand to get his own pants open enough to pull out his dick, spitting in his hand before lining himself up with Bucky, who moans loudly at the press of Steve’s flesh against his own.

He leans back down, settling his hands by Steve’s shoulders and holding himself up so he can rut against Steve’s cock, and Steve uses his hand to work the two of them together. It’s sloppy and frenzied, and so, so good. Steve can feel his orgasm building low in his pelvis, and he pants out Bucky’s name. 

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky whines, and yeah, fuck, he’s getting close. 

“You gonna come for me, Buck?”

Bucky groans and leans down to mouth at Steve’s neck as he nods, thrusting helplessly into Steve’s hand.

“Yeah, fuck,” Steve grunt. “Come on, Buck, I wanna feel you come.” Bucky whines and does, biting Steve’s throat. Steve’s balls tighten, and it only takes two more strokes before he’s coming, too, Bucky’s moans and the pain of the bite sending him over the edge. 

They both pant as they come down together. Bucky starts pressing little kisses to Steve’s face and jaw, humming softly as he does. Steve sighs and uses his clean hand to reach out for a blanket to use to wipe up their mess.

Bucky rolls off of Steve and kneels up, taking the blanket Steve finds and wiping himself off before pulling his pants back up. He wipes Steve down, too, and Steve tucks himself away before cleaning off his hand. Bucky flops down on his back with a, “ _ cacat _ , that was good, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, rolling over to fit himself to Bucky’s side. Steve feels Bucky wrap an arm around him, the other pulling a different blanket over them. Steve grabs a pillow and has Bucky lean up a bit so he can stuff it under his head.

They watch the sky in silence for a spell after that, content to bask in each other’s warmth. Gods, but Steve  _ missed _ this, missed the solid presence of Bucky by his side, in his life. Having him here again is incredible, but it’s only going to make it that much harder to watch him go.

“There’s this planet — App-ye, it’s called,” Bucky says, low and quiet, breaking Steve’s reverie. “It’s mostly ocean, like Terra Prime used to be. They have these massive creatures that wash up on the beaches sometimes. They’re bigger than the boats the inhabitants use to fish for food. They’re like jellyfish, but they also have these two massive squid-like tentacles along with their other jellyfish tentacles. No one has ever seen one alive before. The locals call them  _ agar frouth _ , which means ‘death life’ because the only proof they’re alive is when they’re dead. Makes you wonder what they’re eating to get so big, though.”

Steve hums, and Bucky starts lazily trailing his hand up and down Steve’s arm. “This other place, Bloork. Everything that lives there is happy. All the time. It’s incredibly disturbing. Sam and I had to leave after two days because we couldn’t handle it.” Steve snorts and tries to imagine how bad it must have been if even Sam was driven away by oppressive optimism.

“Then there was H’ae D’rah. That’s the first place I visited on my own. I wish you could have seen that place, Steve. It was gorgeous. I flew over miles of sea until I found land, and when I did, there were all these stone buildings that had been built around the natural lay of the land so they looked like a natural extension of the rock formations and stuff. There were waterfalls and fountains and little pools, paved paths of cobbled stone that warmed in the sun. There were fruit trees everywhere, and birds singing. And the flowers! You’ve never seen such a riot of color and shapes. It was incredibly peaceful and calming and wonderful. 

“There was a man there, Al Exander, and he was the head of the religious order. They were cautious at first, not sure of my intentions and stuff. They’d never had a Voyager visit them before. But on the third day, he came to me and said their deity had had a vision, and that I was to be trusted. I would be able to see their temple and ask questions of the acolytes, anything I wanted. And after I’d spent a full week among them, I would meet their deity. 

“Now, I didn’t think they meant a real deity, but they were adamant, and so I honored their wishes. I met people. I asked questions. They all seemed so fervent in their beliefs that this deity would be the one to save the universe, make it a better place. Seemed a little haughty, if you ask me.

“But then, on the seventh day, it came. Their deity. They took me to the main temple, into this vast room with a massive dome, and all these acolytes were in there, and Al Exander was chanting and shit, and then the flames all flared up, and a giant cloud of smoke appeared, and when the smoke cleared, this creature was standing there. I honestly thought it was a metaphor they were talking about, but no, it was a real thing.

“It had these giant forelegs with smaller hind legs and a long, thick tail. Its skin looked thick and rough and was the color of smoke when you burn leaves. It had three heads atop three long, thick necks.”

“Three heads?”

“Yeah, I was stunned.”

“Fuck, that sounds terrifying!”

“I was scared at first, but then I could feel the tension just sort of slowly drain away. Somehow I knew this creature meant me no harm. And it could talk! Steve, it started talking to me! It was kind and gentle and intelligent, and I think it may also be magical, but I’m not sure how I knew that. I just knew.

“It started asking me all sorts of questions about me and about Terra IV, about Voyagers and stuff. It told me how their little enclave takes in all comers and nurses them to health or outright heals them if the person is in a dire condition. It was truly incredible, Steve. I wish you could have seen it. Being there by myself...it really hit me then, how much I missed you and wanted you by my side, wanted you with me experiencing all the wondrous things the universe has to offer.

“I know it’s not possible, but what good is this Gift if I can’t share this with you? Fuck, Steve, I —”

Steve surges up and kisses Bucky, hard and desperate, because he can’t hear Bucky finish that thought, he just can’t. Steve kisses Bucky again, lighter this time, and then again and again and again. Bucky sighs as he breaks apart, tilting his head to rest his forehead on Steve’s.

“You know I’d come with you if I could.”

Bucky sighs again. “I know you would.”

Steve hums and reaches out to start carding his hand through Bucky’s hair. It’s longer than he used to wear it, thick and lush. Bucky hisses when his fingers get caught on a tangle, and Steve kisses the hurt away and works the tangle free.

Bucky’s breathing deeply by the time Steve asks, “how long can you stay?”

Bucky sighs and disentangles himself. He sits up and wraps his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest. “A couple days, I think. Natasha says the urge to move gets easier to ignore as you get older and have Voyaged longer, but I’m still so new that I want to be pretty constantly on the move. I wish it were longer, though. Doesn’t feel like enough.”

“A couple days, then. We’ll make the most of them.” Steve scoots up behind Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist as he leans his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky sighs and threads his fingers through Steve’s as they sit together and watch the sky.


	5. Chapter 5

Watching Bucky leave the second time is even harder than the first. Steve wasn’t expecting that.

It takes a couple weeks, but he and Jimmy settle back into their routine. They travel and help people, and another year passes. Steve finds himself watching the sky more often in the days leading up to the date Bucky came home last year. And in the weeks after that date passes. He stops looking after a month.

He gets home from a work trip one evening, tired from the road. He drops his bag in the entryway and is tugging off his shoes when he hears some noise further into the apartment. He frowns; his mom was supposed to be on a late shift today. 

He walks into the living room, and sure enough, there’s his mom, walking into the room from the hallway to their bedrooms. “Steve?” she says, in a small, confused voice, and Steve looks at her, watching in horror as the hand she’s raised starts turning to ash, floating away on some non-existent breeze.

Steve opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. He’s silent as he watches his mother turn to ash before his eyes. When he can finally get his legs to move, he sprints over to her, reaching down to tenderly touch the pile of ash that used to be her body.

He wakes, gasping, and runs into his mom’s bedroom, sobbing when he feels her arm solid under his hands. He’s shaking her, he realizes, and calling her name. She wakes up and grabs onto his arm. “Steve?” she says in the same small, confused tone as his dream, and Steve surges forward, tucking his face into the crook of her neck as he cries. Sarah wraps him into her arms and lets him.

When he’s done crying, she wipes his tears and leads him into the kitchen and makes some tea. “Tell me,” she says, before taking a sip of her tea. Steve wraps his fingers around his mug to absorb the warmth he finds there. And then he does.

Sarah’s quiet, listening intently and letting Steve talk. When he’s done, she reaches out to clasp his hand and promises she’ll call Mender Bruce in the morning. Steve sighs and nods. Sarah pats his hand again and gets up to make some food. Neither of them are going back to sleep after that. Might as well be full if they’re going to be awake in the middle of the night.

Steve goes with her to the appointment, pacing around the waiting room while Bruce runs his tests or whatever he’s doing in there. Bruce calls him in after about twenty minutes, and he’s oddly nervous while he’s trying to explain the results of his mom’s tests. He keeps stammering and taking off his glasses to wipe at them, and it’s so unlike him that Steve isn’t sure what’s going on at first.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he blurts out. Bruce and his mom trade a look, and that’s when he realizes. “Oh. Gods. She’s sick. My mom. She’s sick. And you  _ knew _ .”

“Steve —” Bruce starts, but Steve interrupts with a “No! No, I don’t want to hear any excuses or lies now. Tell me the truth, Bruce. Please,” he says, voice cracking.

“Okay, Steve. Okay. Yes, your mom has been sick. Yes, we knew. And yes, we kept it from you. I’m sor—” Steve growls and launches himself at Bruce, beating his chest with his fists and shouting nonsense at him. Sarah rushes over to try and pull Steve off him, but Bruce just wraps his arms around Steve and tells him he’s sorry until Steve runs out of steam and starts crying on Bruce’s shoulder.

He sits back down when he’s all cried out and asks them to tell him the truth. Sarah tells him that she’s been sick for a year and a half, and that Bruce has been doing everything he could to keep her healthy. But things are progressing quickly now, and it’s beyond Bruce’s capabilities. Steve nods and stares at the floor, wringing his hands. 

“Can I have a minute alone with Bruce, please, ma?” Sarah looks to Bruce, who nods, so she gets up and makes her way out of Bruce’s office, closing the door behind her as she goes.

“Is it the Xytar?” Steve asks once Sarah is out of the room.

“Not directly,” Bruce explains. “You absorbed the majority of her exposure, but what she did get caused a delayed cell-mutation response. It’s similar to cancer.”

“I thought that cancer was all curable now?”

“Cancer is. This is in the same family but not exactly the same.”

“Is that going to happen to me?”

“Steve…”

“Bruce. Please. I know I’m not going to live a long life. Just tell me.”

“I doubt you’ll live long enough for something like this to manifest. Your body will break down long before it gets to this point.”

“I’d already be dead if it weren’t for you, wouldn’t I?”

Bruce works his jaw in silence. “Probably. Steve, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Does my mom know? About me?”

“I haven’t said anything to her, and she’s never asked. I don’t know what she’s assumed, though.”

“If she asks, will you lie again? I don’t want her worrying about this on top of everything else. Not now. She needs to be focussing on herself. Please, Bruce,” he pleads. 

“Alright, if that’s what you want.”

Steve stares out the window on the way home. He doesn’t know quite what to say yet. His mom keeps looking over as she drives, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something but always thinking better of it. 

She makes more tea, and they sit down at the kitchen table. She opens her mouth to talk again, but Steve holds up his hand first. “I understand why you did it. You didn’t want me to worry. And with Bucky leaving and me being a Seer...I understand. I hate it, but I understand. It’s done now, in the past. I don’t want to spend what time I have left with you dwelling on this, okay? I’ll be all right.”

Sarah nods and bursts into tears. Steve pops up, the chair legs scratching across the floor as he wraps his arms around his mom’s neck and holds her. She cries into his shirt, and gods, he can’t imagine the stress of keeping a secret like that from him.

“Does Freddie know?”

Sarah nods. “Yeah. She knows.”

“Good. I’m glad you had someone.”

“Gods, Steve,” Sarah says and cries harder.

~~~

Sarah Rogers dies on a Thursday. Steve takes her ashes back to their old farm and spreads them in the same place she spread Joseph’s.

~~~

Steve is sitting in his darkened kitchen, nursing his fourth drink of the night, when someone knocks on the door. He frowns; he’s not expecting anyone. Freddie came by earlier to reminisce and drop off some food, and to give Steve a rib-crushing hug. At least she hadn’t admonished him for not eating well and not sleeping.

Whomever it is knocks again, so Steve shoves himself away from the table and stands up, wobbling over to the door. He’s drunker than he thought, not that he was really thinking about it in the first place. Who cares if he gets drunk on the anniversary of his mother’s death? No one, that’s who.

He flings the door open with a barked “what?” Bucky’s standing there, hand raised like he’s about to knock again. He smiles when he sees Steve, and his eyes crinkle in the way that used to drive Steve nuts. Steve blinks and rubs his eyes to make sure this is really happening. 

“Bucky?” he croaks.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says around his smile.

“Are you really here or am I drunking this? No, dreaming this? I’m not drunking, that’s stupid. Stupid. S-s-s-stupid. Ha!”

Bucky’s smile dims, and he asks, “hey, can I come in?”

“Sure,” Steve slurs, opening the door all the way and sweeping his arm in an “after you” gesture. Bucky steps into the apartment and looks around, and Steve can see him taking in the plates and mugs strewn about the place, the wrappers and papers and other shit he hadn’t bothered to clean up yet, the clothes lying in little piles on the floor by the couch. Steve used to sit there and fold laundry back when his mother was still — no, nope, not thinking about that right now.

Steve leads Bucky to the kitchen and picks up some stray dishes, throwing them into the sink. Bucky cringes when he hears one of the plates break, but whatever, they’re just dishes.

“Let me get that,” Bucky cuts in when Steve reaches for more random shit on the table to clear a spot for Bucky to sit down.

Steve gives him an exaggerated “go ahead” hand sweep and sits down hard in his chair, throwing back the rest of the drink he’d been nursing and pouring himself another one. He tips the bottle toward Bucky, who shakes his head. Steve shrugs and pours himself Bucky’s share and takes a long sip.

“It’s uh, it’s good to see you, Steve. How have you been?” Bucky asks, like he can’t see the evidence of how Steve’s been all over the apartment.

Steve just grunts and takes another sip of liquor.

“‘Cause you kind of look terrible.”

Steve grunts again at that.

“This mess...it’s not like you, Steve, and I’m worried. What’s going on?”

Steve just shrugs and keeps drinking.

“You’re really not going to tell me?”

Steve snorts and finishes his drink, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another one. Bucky reaches out, too, and grasps the bottle to try and keep Steve from filling his glass again. Steve glares at him and pulls hard, breaking Bucky’s hold and pouring himself yet another drink.

“Steve…”

“How are your grand adventures going?” Steve asks, bitterly, and Bucky frowns. 

“What the hell is the matter with you? And where’s your mom, is she on a night shift or something? I really doubt she’d let you destroy the place like this, but if she’s been at the hospital for a few days stringing shifts together or something, then maybe —”

“She’s dead,” Steve hisses, causing Bucky to freeze up in shock.

“She’s what?”

“She’s dead. She died a year ago, Buck. A year ago today, actually.” Steve sips at his drink and watches Bucky process the news. He looks stunned, all the happiness he’d had when Steve had opened the door sucked away by the news. Steve thinks there are even tears forming in the corner of his eyes, but it’s dim in the kitchen, and Steve’s really drunk, so it’s hard to tell. He hopes Bucky is crying. Serves him right. 

“What happened?”

Steve shrugs.

“She got sick, couldn’t shake it. Bruce did his best, but…”

“Fuck. Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m, so, so sor—”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, furious suddenly, though he’s not sure why. “Shut up! Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry, Bucky, don’t you dare!”

“Steve —”

“I  _ needed _ you!” Steve’s pushes away from the table, his chair falling over in his haste to stand up. Bucky gets up, too, and lets Steve crowd into his space. “I needed you! And you weren’t there! You were out fucking around on some other planet while my mother was dying, and I needed you  _ here _ !”

“I didn’t know, Steve! Fuck, I’m sorry, baby, but I didn’t know!”

Steve huffs a laugh, this mean little sound, and pokes Bucky in the chest with his finger. “Would it even have mattered?”

“What?”

“If you had known. Would it have mattered? Would you have bothered coming back?”

“What the fuck are you saying, Steve? Of course I would have come back! I loved her too, you know. She was like a second mother to me. You  _ know _ I would have come back!”

“Do I?” And oh, Steve wants to take it back as soon as he’s said it because Bucky looks absolutely  _ devastated. _ The guilt only lasts a second, though, followed swiftly by the anger that had swept through his gut earlier. What right does he have to look so upset? None, that’s what. He deserves to feel shitty for not being here when his mom was dying, for not being here for a year after she’d died. For leaving Steve alone in this shitty apartment on this shitty planet with his shitty health and that stupid, shitty Gift. Fuck him. Fuck him.

Steve steps in closer and really gets in Bucky’s face now, clenching and unclenching his fists against the urge to hit something, anything. Bucky swallows a few times, his bottom lip quivering as he works his jaw. He puts his hands on Steve shoulders and steps back until he’s out of arm’s reach, dropping his arms back to his sides. Steve starts to come closer again, but Bucky holds up a hand to stop him.

“I get that you’re angry. I understand why. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here for you, Steve. You’ll probably never know how sorry I am. But it’s not like I had a choice. I know you miss her, and it still hurts like hell. But it’s not my fault that she’s gone. Stop taking it out on me.” Steve growls and takes a step forward, but Bucky holds up his other hand, so Steve stops. 

“You’re drunk. You’re really, really drunk, and you’re not thinking straight. We can talk about this when you’ve sobered up. I’ll come back to check on you in the morning.” Bucky turns to leave and starts walking toward the front door.

“Yeah,” Steve says to his back as he’s walking away. “Just leave. That’s what you’re best at these days anyway.” 

Bucky’s step falters, his shoulders slump, and his head goes down. He stops walking, and Steve can see him taking deep, wracking breaths. He straightens up and turns his head like he’s going to say something in response before thinking better of it. He gets to the front door and steps through without looking back. He closes the door with a soft click that may as well have been as loud as a gunshot, the way it pierces right through Steve.

Steve collapses to the floor and wraps his arms around his knees and tries his best to ignore how it feels like he’s just made a terrible mistake.

He wakes the next day with a stiff back, a crick in his neck, and a pounding headache. Everything is too bright and too loud, even though the apartment lights are off and no one is around to make any noise. Steve groans and rolls over onto his back to wait out the wave of nausea that rolls through his stomach.

He manages not to puke on the floor and gets to his feet, shuffling to the kitchen for some water and painkillers. And some breakfast, if he can keep anything down. Something bland but filling, maybe. He makes himself some hot cereal and sits down at the table. He goes back through the fight a few times before deciding he’s had enough of thinking about his own shitty behavior, so he eats his food and waits for Bucky to come over. He remembers him saying he’d come check on Steve in the morning, and it is still technically morning, barely.

Steve sits there and waits for an hour before he decides he may as well do a little tidying while he’s waiting for Bucky to come over. Bucky was right in that Steve’s not doing well, not taking care of himself. It’s been a year, a fucking terrible year, but his mom wouldn’t want him living this way when she had worked so hard to make a life for Steve and herself. Throwing it away now isn’t how he wants to honor her memory.

Jimmy comes by half an hour later, takes one look at Steve and goes to get another glass of water. Steve huffs but drinks it anyway. Jimmy nods and puts the glass in the sink then comes back to help Steve clean. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says. “I can get by on my own.

Jimmy comes over and pats Steve on the shoulder. “I know,” he says, and leaves it at that. He goes back to cleaning and doesn’t say anything else. He stays for two hours, and by the time he hugs Steve and tells him he’ll be back in two days so they can start their rounds again, the place is spotless.

“Thank you, Jimmy,” Steve says, hugging back tightly.

“Don’t mention it. No, seriously, don’t mention it. Then I’ll have to start doing nice things for my other friends, and I don’t really want to do that.”

Steve chuckles and lets Jimmy go. He picks up a book and sits down to read while waiting for Bucky to come by. He does feel a lot better now that the apartment is clean. He’ll have to remember this.

When Sylvar starts to set, Steve is forced to confront the fact that Bucky may not be coming. Steve panics a little and runs back through everything he and Bucky said to each other last night. Had he promised he would go find Bucky? No, Bucky had said he would come check on Steve. So where is he? Maybe...maybe he decided it wasn’t worth it since Steve had been so cruel last night? Steve stands up and rushes to the door. Fuck. Fuck. He needs to go find Bucky and apologize.

He pounds on the Barnes’s front door when he gets to their apartment, and what is taking them so long to come to the door? He pounds on the door again, calling out “it’s Steve!” through the door so they don’t get scared or something.

Freddie pulls the door open with a “Steve, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Is Bucky here?” he breathes, the panic turning over his stomach and tightening his throat.

Freddie’s face falls. Oh, fuck. No. “Come in, Steve, and sit down.”

Oh, gods. Steve wrings his hands as he follows Freddie to their kitchen and sits down at the table. This is it. He’s really done it this time. 

Freddie sets a cup of tea down in front of him, and not even the aromatic scent of his favorite is working to help quell the dread in his chest.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Steve chokes out as a tear slowly works its way down his face.

“He is. He left this morning. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve nods and tips his head down, letting the tears fall down onto the table as he holds his mug of tea and tries to draw strength from its warmth.

“Did something happen between you two?” she asks gently. Bucky may be her son, but she loves Steve like one of her own, and this must be so hard for her, to see both of them in pain.

“Ye—” Steve’s voice cracks, so he starts again. “Yeah. We fought. It was my fault. I was drunk and angry about my mom, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I hurt him, Freddie. I think I hurt him real bad. He said he was gonna come back in the morning when I’d sobered up, but he didn’t…” Steve trails off and shakes his head. That’s all he can give her.

She reaches across the table and clasps his hand. “You listen to me, Steve Rogers.”

Steve looks up at her.

“He  _ loves  _ you. He’ll be back. He will. He’s just upset at himself because he wasn’t there for you. But he’ll be back. I know it.”

Steve nods and lets the determination behind her words bolster him. He’s not sure he agrees, but he hopes she’s right all the same.

A year passes, and he’s still hopeful. Another passes and he’s less sure. Jimmy gets reassigned shortly after the third anniversary of his mother’s death, and they part tearfully, but Steve understands. Jimmy deserves the chance to do something besides drive Steve around a shitty planet. Jimmy is sad but excited. His new assignment is back at the Seers Guild headquarters, so at least there will be more variety, more to do on his down time. 

Steve gives him a sketchbook full of drawings: of Jimmy, of Steve, of Sarah, of Terra IV, and the little apartment Steve’s lived in most of his life. There are sketches of people they’ve helped with little blurbs on the bottom of the page. Jimmy cries as he thumbs through it and hugs Steve again, tightly. “I don’t have anything for you, you jerk,” he says as he pulls away, sniffling and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

Steve puts on his best fake smile and tucks his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want anything, Jimmy. I’m sorry you’re leaving, of course, but I’m real happy for you. You’re gonna do great. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Jimmy hugs him once again before he leaves. Steve shuts the door behind him and decides to go to bed, even though it’s still light out.

Two more years pass. The only place Steve has seen Bucky in four years now is his monthly Sight dream about him. He hates that Bucky still looks like the scared young kid who left when he was 18, and Steve looks like he does now; weary and sunken and drawn, lonely from years of trying to survive on his own.

And sure, Freddie’s tried her best. George tolerates him, but Steve knows seeing him just makes George think about Bucky, so he tries to avoid the man when he can. Becca’s the same way. She tolerates Steve, but he’s not her brother. And besides, she’s a teenager. She doesn’t need to be spending time with him. He understands, he really does. Becca is heading off world for University next year, and Steve couldn’t be prouder, even if she never truly wanted to see him once Bucky left. 

He feels old and worn thin, even though he’s only 25.

Steve makes his way to the greenhouse, slower these days, and Steve knows he should probably be concerned, but he figures it’s just the Xytar sickness he and Bruce had discussed when his mom was sick. It’s his time, so he’s not gonna fight it. He’ll go see Bruce when it gets real bad. Probably.

Steve groans as he flops down onto some pillows and blankets. He looks out at the sky, and it’s a surprisingly clear night. He hates clear nights now, when he can see the stars splashed across the sky like drops of spilled milk. It makes him wonder if Bucky is on one of the planets he can see, if maybe he’s looking back toward Terra IV, too, and they’re impossibly connected across the light years. 

He knows that literally can’t be true, what with how long it takes for light from other stars and planets to reach Terra IV and all. Still. He thinks about it. And he hates that he does. Bucky is gone, and he’s not coming back. He has a better life now, a  _ good _ life, exploring space and meeting new beings, experiencing exciting things. Steve hopes he’s happy out there, wherever he is. He really fucking hopes at least Bucky is happy. 

~~~

He’s having the dream again, the one where his body fades away until only his head is left. He wakes with a sigh. It’s the third time this week he’s had the dream, and he’s tired of it. He’s tired of the dream, of the ache in his bones, in his body. He’s tired of being alone, of being scared that he won’t see Bucky again before — well, before.

Mostly, though, he’s just tired. So he lays down on his bed, and he rests.

He wakes, or he thinks he does, but he’s not sure because his there’s a piercing pain in his head, and his eyes feel gritty and will barely open. There are voices around him, but they sound far away and murky. Anyway, Freddie is the only person who visits anymore, and she hasn’t been by in weeks.

He thinks maybe someone is calling his name, but he doesn’t know for sure, and he thinks he should care, should try to answer, but he’s just so tired. Maybe if he sleeps some, it will be easier to figure out what’s going on. 

The next time he wakes, there are bright lights that make his head pound even harder, so he squints before closing his eyes. He hears Winifred again, and Bruce, and someone else, someone he doesn’t know. There’s beeping, lots of beeping, and the air smells like his mom used to smell when she came home after a long day at work. It’s comforting, that smell, having it wrapped around him like an embrace.

He’s asleep and awake and asleep and awake and asleep and awake, and then he’s crying, crying, because he wants to see Bucky one last time, just one more gods-damn time, so he can apologize for being such an ass, so he can tell Bucky how sorry he is that Bucky got stuck giving his heart to such a wretched, undeserving creature like Steve.

Someone is squeezing his hand, hard, and then there’s a shout, and it sounds like Bucky and Bucky is there, but no, that can’t be right. Bucky is gone for good. He must be dreaming again. But Steve doesn’t care anymore because he’s missed Bucky so much he’ll take a dream Bucky right now if that’s all he can get, and Bucky says Steve’s name in the most broken little voice, and oh, how cruel Steve is to make Bucky sound like that when and that when Bucky was always so strong. He would  _ never _ sound that scared.

Someone starts squeezing his other hand, and they’re sobbing, and begging, and begging, and promising things that Steve can’t understand, and maybe if he rests some, he’ll be able to understand.

And then he’s moving and the Mom smell is gone, replaced by stale air smell, and it’s better but also worse, and then there is lots of fast motion and it feels odd, like he’s being stretched, and then they’re still and there’s a mask over his face and he can breathe so well, oh, that feels good, is this what it feels like to have working lungs? How lucky is everyone else!

The motion stops suddenly, then it’s gentle, and he’s outside, and the sunlight is bright, and there is a salt breeze on the air, and birds calling, and lots of voices and they sound upset, but then ONE VOICE, and it’s so strong and large and it’s coming from the sky, and then there’s a shadow over him, and Bucky is there. Oh, gods, Bucky is there.

He’s talking to something and saying things like “please” and “heal” and “can’t die,” and Steve tries really hard to focus now. The VOICE says that it will cost him, and Bucky says he’ll pay the price, and then he’s screaming and Steve smells blood and feels heat and smells charred flesh, and something drips on his forehead and into his mouth, and he gags and tastes blood, and then the VOICE is saying words and the air is sucked out of Steve’s lungs, and he tries to scream but he can’t get any oxygen, and he’s afraid and then  _ pain  _ and  _ pain _ and  _ pain _ , and he does scream then, he screams so much and so much and so much and it HURTS, JUST MAKE IT STOP!


	6. Chapter 6

He wakes up in the hospital, and the pain is gone. He feels… worn, and thirsty, but otherwise good. Surprisingly good. Suspiciously good, when he stops to think about it. Freddie is sitting in a chair by his bed. She’s hunched over, her upper body resting on Steve’s bed. She’s snoring softly in her sleep. He reaches out to touch her hair gently, frowning when he catches a glimpse of his arm: his forearm looks different. He holds his arm up, and it’s  _ definitely _ different. It’s… bigger. Wider. He takes a deep breath to quell his rising panic, but it doesn’t help because his breath doesn’t catch, doesn’t make his lungs rattle.

What the fuck is going on? 

He must make some sort of noise because Freddie jolts awake and looks at Steve. He stares back at her because her eyes — her eyes, they’re blue. They’re so  _ blue, _ and he’d always thought they were gray.

“Steve…” she whispers, her voice thick with disuse. Or maybe emotion, he can’t really tell.

“What’s happening? Freddie, what is going on?”

She shakes her head as her eyes flutter shut. Steve watches as a tear winds its way down her cheek. She exhales sharply and clears her throat, and Steve can see the moment she makes a resolution to herself and straightens up, setting her shoulders as she wipes her cheek and looks him in the eyes. 

“I came to check on you. I’m sorry I hadn’t been by in a while, it’s just — well, that’s not important now. You were feverish and barely breathing, so I called Mender Bruce and took you to the hospital. 

“Bruce told me you had been sick, and I knew it was the Xytar. We both feared the worst, Steve, and I was terrified. Your mother asked me to look after you, and there you were, dying, and you looked so frail, Steve. All I could do was hold your hand and try and soothe you as you cried out for Bucky.

“And then he was there, Steve, he was there. I don’t know if it was coincidence or some cosmic design, but Bucky walked into your hospital room, took one look at you, and scooped you up in his arms. He carried you right out of the hospital with this look on his face. I almost can’t describe it, but I’ve been thinking about it, and the closest I can manage is resigned fury. I’ve never seen him like that. There was no stopping him. 

“He carried you to his ship and took you off-world, and he brought you back three days later. You looked like this, and Bucky was missing his left arm.”

“What do you mean he was missing his left arm? And I looked like what, exactly?”

Freddie shakes her head. “His arm was gone, Steve. He had this black fabric wrapped around what was left of it, up close to his shoulder. He got you back into the hospital, saw you settled into this bed, and he stalked off again. He didn’t say a word, Steve. He was like some sort of ghost in an old story.”

“A ghost story? Freddie, what — “

“Please, Steve,” she sobs. “I don’t know. I don’t — he’s my  _ son, _ and I don’t…”

“Okay, hey, it’s okay,” Steve says gently. He scoots down the bed and leans over, wrapping her in his… substantially bigger arms, and she leans against his now-broad chest, and Steve feels a ball of panic form in his belly. He looks down at his torso, at his long, thick legs, and he feels the panic spread.

Freddie pulls back when she hears Steve’s breathing pick up. “Steve? What’s wrong?” The monitors in the room start beeping, and Steve’s having an asthma attack or something because he can’t breathe, and his body isn’t his own, and he can’t  _ breathe. _

Bruce rushes into the room and grabs Steve’s hand and has him match his breathing and talks Steve down. He gets Steve a glass of water, and Steve gulps it down gratefully. When he’s caught his breath again, he grits out, “Bruce, what the  _ fuck _ is going on?”

Bruce sighs heavily and runs his hand through his hair. “Well, that’s a really good question. Whatever Bucky did, or more likely had someone else do, healed you, fully healed you in a way that I could never manage. And it obviously changed your body. And also it, uh…” Bruce makes a wobbly pointing gesture toward Steve’s Seer mark on his chest. 

“It what?”

“Uh…” he repeats the gesture. “Just look, okay?”

Steve frowns and pulls down the neck of his hospital gown far enough to expose his Seer mark, gasping when he fully sees it: there filling in the center of the circles is a five-pointed star. 

“Bruce… this is a Voyager mark.”

“Yeah.”

“Inside my Seer mark.”

Bruce sighs again. “That’s what we thought, too.”

“What does that mean? Is that even possible?”

“We don’t know, Steve. But from what we can tell, yes, you’re now also a Voyager.”

Steve feels his stomach drop to his toes. What did Bucky  _ do _ ? “What do you mean ‘from what you can tell?’”

“We, uh, we ran some blood tests and things while you were unconscious. Your asthma is gone. Your heart is fine. Your spine is straight. Your lung capacity is normal. Your allergies are gone.”

“I’m not colorblind anymore.”

“Oh, really? Wow. Steve, that’s great.”

“What about my body? Why is it suddenly so…”

“Huge?”

“Uh, yeah. Huge.”

Bruce sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose before putting them back on. “Honestly, Steve, we have no idea.This is all so unprecedented. No one has ever just  _ become  _ a Voyager past their age of majority, and definitely no one has ever had two Gifts, as far as I can tell. I’ve been doing some research and making some calls, and it’s just — no one knows what to do here.”

Steve nods and lowers his head, swallowing hard. His eyes are burning as he fights back tears. “So Bucky… this is definitely because of something he did.”

“It seems likely.”

Freddie reaches out and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Does it have to do with Bucky’s missing arm?” she asks Bruce, her eyes trained on Steve.

“Probably. We were hoping Steve would have some answers when he woke up.”

Steve shakes his head a little. “I was pretty out of it, delirious from the fever. Dying probably. I only caught a few bits of things as I was drifting in and out of consciousness. It hurt. A lot. And Bucky was screaming, I remember that.” Freddie’s hand tightens on Steve’s again as he continues. “There was this voice. It was powerful. And it sounded like…” Steve frowns, trailing off as he tries to pull up the memory. “It sounded like…” he tries again.

“Steve?” Bruce asks, concerned.

Steve looks up at him. “I can’t remember, Bruce. Which is wrong. Something is wrong. I can usually remember everything when I need to, when I try. But when I think about what happened, it’s like there’s this… barrier blocking me from accessing the memory.” 

Bruce stares back at Steve for a minute, his brows furrowed as he tries to process what Steve’s saying. “Steve..” he starts. He shakes his head before trying again. “Maybe that’s due to your illness or the trauma. Could be normal for this kind of traumatic event. It happens to people all the time, memory loss due to illness or injury or trauma.”

“It doesn’t  _ feel _ normal, Bruce.” Steve exhorts.

“Okay. Okay, I believe you.” Steve nods and looks at Freddie, who smiles back tightly. He squeezes her hand a couple of times, lightly, and she smiles again. “Get some rest, okay?” Bruce continues. “I have a feeling things are going to get very hectic for you very soon.”

Steve sighs and thinks about the days before Bucky left the first time. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

~~~

He wakes the next morning feeling fully rested for the first time ever. He yawns anyway and stretches the sleep away, but his back doesn’t crack a dozen times, and the scar on his chest from his heart surgeries doesn’t pinch. It’s unsettling. 

He heads to the kitchen for some coffee anyway out of habit, and opens the cabinet door right into his forehead. He’s still hungry after finishing the same breakfast he used to struggle to finish. His pants are too short when he tries to get dressed. Everything is saturated with color now, and he realizes his favorite striped shirt is actually hideously mismatched. Gods, no wonder people used to look at him strangely when he wore it.

Everything feels a little too small now, or not enough, or too bright. It’s unsettling, and Steve feels on edge all day. He wonders how long it’s going to take before he’s used to this new body. He hopes it isn’t long. 

~~~

Sam and Natasha come for Steve almost two weeks later. He lets them into his apartment and serves them tea and sandwiches and baked goods, and he’s not even sure why he did all that. Okay, no, that’s not true: he’s oddly nervous about them being in his apartment, about what they’re going to say and ask, about being on this side of their visit instead of watching Bucky go through it. 

They both thank him for the food and eat quietly. Sam asks a few benign questions about how Steve’s been since the last time they saw each other, and offers condolences about Steve’s mother when he learns about her death. Steve answers them curtly, and he doesn’t  _ mean _ to, it’s just… his leg is bouncing, and his stomach is churning, and neither of them have mentioned either of the elephants in the room.

“So, Steve,” Natasha starts before she’s interrupted by Steve’s “can we please just talk about it already?!”

Sam snorts a little and puts down his plate and teacup. “Yeah, man, we can talk about it.”

Steve sighs and rubs his hand down his face. “Sorry, it’s just — “

“It’s fine,” Natasha tells him. “Really. Why don’t you start by telling us everything you can about what happened.”

So Steve does. Natasha and Sam listen closely, sharing a look when Steve talks about the barrier he feels around his memory. They ask to see his Voyager mark, if it’s not too private, and he shows them. 

“There’s nothing else you can tell us about that day?” Sam asks.

Steve shakes his head. “I wish there was. I have a bad feeling about this whole thing.”

Natasha hums. “A premonition or just a feeling?”

“Just a feeling for now, but I do have sight dreams about Bucky.”

Natasha frowns and tilts her head. “How often?”

“Once a month at least,” Steve tells her.

Sam and Natasha exchange another look. “Will you tell us about the dream, Steve?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” They’re both quiet when Steve finishes talking. They keep trading these glances, and Steve feels the anxiety crawling up his spine. “Will one of you please say something?”

Natasha sighs. She looks tired, Steve notices. “Sorry, Steve, but honestly? We don’t really know. No one has ever heard of anything like this, so we’re all kind of at a loss.”

Steve huffs in frustration. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Clearly Bucky is involved somehow,” Sam says. “The thing we keep coming back to is what kind of creature or person or whatever is powerful enough to make someone a Voyager? Because Bucky sure as hell didn’t do that on his own.”

“Huh,” Steve says, and isn’t that a sobering thought. “Have you asked him? Bucky?”

Sam and Natasha look at each other.

Steve interjects with a “please, just tell me and stop  _ looking _ at each other like that!”

“Sorry, sorry. I swear we aren’t doing this on purpose,” Sam says. 

“It’s just… no one has heard from Bucky since the incident. His signal went dark after he left here with you, and we haven’t been able to recover it.”

“His signal?”

“Yeah. All Voyagers have universal transmitter signals built into their ships so that they can be tracked down in case of emergency. We’ve been trying to hail Bucky ever since we received the message that he had taken a non-Voyager off-world, but we haven’t been able to reach him. Any idea where he might be?”

Steve scoffs. “No, I don’t. He hadn’t been home in four years before the day he took me. You two probably would know better than me at this point.” 

Natasha hums and doesn’t look very convinced of that. “Well, no use trying to hash it out any more now. Fury will want to see you when we reach Alsoten-Ra. We can all discuss it further at that point. I’m curious, how are you feeling? Are you anxious to leave yet?”

Steve frowns and thinks back to what Bucky was like before he left for the first time, all fidgety and full of energy he couldn’t seem to expend. He shakes his head. “I feel okay, actually. Maybe because it was such a surprise?”

“Maybe because your body has undergone a pretty incredible transformation and is still getting used to that,” Sam offers.

“That’s very possible,” Steve responds. “Bruce would be able to fill you in better than I can about what happened to my body, though.”

“Who’s Bruce?”

“Oh, he’s a Mender. He’s been here since I was born, helping people. Helping me. He’s probably the only reason I was even alive this long, before Bucky did whatever he did.”

“Can we talk to him?” Natasha asks. 

“Yeah, let me give him a call and see if he’s busy.”

He isn’t. He comes over and answers every question Sam and Natasha can think to ask. They thank him when they can’t think of anything else. “Hey, can you give Steve and I a few minutes alone, please?” he asks.

“Sure,” Natasha says breezily. “We’ll just go for a little walk. We’ll be back in a bit.” She and Sam stand and shake Bruce’s hand and head out of the apartment.

“What’s going on, Bruce?” Steve asks as soon as they’re gone.

“Nothing. Or, well. I guess I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’ll be leaving soon, and so will I.”

“Bruce, I — where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet. Another world, probably bigger, with more people in it. Now that you’re healthy, you don’t need me anymore. Time to move on, you know? I will miss it here, though. The quiet nights, the double sunrise. It’s a shitty planet, really, but I’ll miss it all the same.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Better than most, I’ll wager.” He holds out his hand for Steve to shake, but Steve just bats it away gently and pulls Bruce in for a crushing hug. 

“Thank you,” Steve says. “For everything. I wish there was something more than that I could say, but thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Bruce says, blushing a little as he pulls away.

“I do. Oh, wait here a second. I have something for you.” Steve heads to his room and digs around his sketchbooks until he finds the one he’s looking for. “Here,” he says when he gets back to Bruce, handing him the book. “This is for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, opening the sketchbook to flip through the pages. Inside are drawings of all sorts of things, like he’d done for Jimmy: there are sketches of Sarah, of Bruce, of Steve himself. There’s a few of Bucky, and Jimmy, and Freddie. There are landscapes and sunsets and various plants and animals that populate Terra IV, so Bruce can have them with him wherever he ends up.

“Steve, this is... “ he trails off, voice catching in his throat. “Thank you, Steve. I’ll treasure this.”

“You’re welcome, Bruce.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Steve smiles softly. “I’d like that.”

~~~

“No. No to all of that,” Natasha says, contempt dripping from her voice.

“Seriously, how are you so bad at this?” Sam asks.

“What? It looks fine!” Steve retorts defensively. He folds his arms across his chest, wincing internally when the fabric of his shirt stretches too tightly around his biceps.

“Everything you’re wearing is at least two sizes too small and not flattering at all. You look like an oversized child.” Nat’s smirking now, and not really making any attempt to hide how much she’s enjoying this.

Steve rolls his eyes, and Sam snorts. “Aw, give him a break, Nat. It’s not like he’s had much time to adjust to this body yet.”

Steve points to Sam to emphasize his “ _ thank _ you, Sam! I’d like to see you do better, Natasha.”

Natasha sits up straighter and rubs her hands together gleefully. “Oh, you are  _ on,  _ Rogers.”

Panicking, Steve looks back to Sam, who throws his hands up. “Hey, don’t look at me,” he says. “I’m not the one who just challenged Natasha Romanov to do my clothes shopping for me. You’re on your own, pal.”

Two hours and dozens of outfits later, Steve willingly admits that Natasha is way better at this than he is. “Looking good, Rogers,” she smirks as they all walk out of the store, Sam and Steve laden down with bags.

Steve bumps her with his shoulder, and she squawks at him, slapping her hand on his arm. 

“I still don’t know why he needs two leather jackets,” Sam grumbles goodnaturedly.

“Because he looks hot in them, Sam,” Natasha answers breezily. Steve feels his cheeks heat up at her assessment. It’s really going to take some getting used to, being looked at with interest by anyone but Bucky. Gods, the look in Bucky’s eyes when he — Steve shuts that train of thought down before he upsets himself. It’s been a good day, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. He feels lighter than he has since Jimmy left. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed having Jimmy around until Natasha and Sam showed up and pulled him out to buy clothes that actually fit him.

He’d been packing up his things, mostly sketchbooks and other trinkets, when he’d realized that his clothes were all too small for him now. Natasha had lit up and suggested they all three go out to remedy that. Sam had recognized Steve’s discomfort at the prospect and had gently persuaded him that a shopping trip was sorely needed. Freddie had brought him some of Bucky’s old clothes while he was in the hospital, and he’d been squeezing into those in the meantime.

But Sam and Natasha were right. It was time to move forward.

They help Steve pack his new purchases, and then he’s done. “There’s two things I need to do first, if that’s okay. Then I’ll be ready to go,” he tells the pair.

Natasha nods. “Take your time. We’ll be here.”

“Do you want some company?” Sam asks, and Steve is so thankful that Sam is one of the people who came for him. He’s kind and supportive and funny. He and Natasha make a good team.

“Thank you, Sam, but this is something I need to do on my own.”

Sam nods his understanding. Steve nods back and heads out of his apartment, walking over to the Barnes’s door and rapping on it. He nervously thumbs the sketchbook in his hand and waits for Freddie to open the door.

It’s George on the other side when the door opens, though. The man takes one look at Steve and turns away, leaving the door open for Steve to come through if he wants. Which he does, so Steve steps through quietly. Freddie gets up from the kitchen table when she sees Steve come in, and she embraces him tightly. He leans his head down and rests it on her shoulder. They stand together silently for a spell before Steve pulls back and hands Freddie the sketchbook he’s holding.

She looks at him for a moment, confused, before she opens the sketchbook and starts paging through it. They’re drawings of Bucky, mostly, with a few of him and Steve peppered in. Minus some pages he’d torn out that he knew Bucky wouldn’t want her to see, and were for his eyes only anyway.

“Thank you, Freddie. For everything,” he says, once she’s about halfway through the book. Freddie chokes up and shakes her head at him. 

“Steve, I —”

“It’s okay, Freddie. You did the best you could.” She shakes her head again before reaching up to cup his cheek.

“You take care of yourself out there, Steve.”

“I’m going to find him, Freddie,” he says with conviction. “I’m going to bring him home.”

“I know you will, Steve. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

~~~

The old Xytar farm is the same as it has been the other times he’s visited. The indentured who live there now have been kind and understanding, and this time is no different. He walks to the place he spread his mother’s ashes and stops by the stone that represents the resting spots of both Joseph and Sarah. 

“Hey, ma,” Steve starts. “A few things have changed since the last time I spoke with you. It’s a long story, but I’m a Voyager now. So I’m leaving today. I don’t know if I’ll be back. I don’t want you to worry about me, though, okay? I’ll be alright. Better than alright. I’m healthy now, and strong. I’m going to live a long, full life now, just like you’d always wanted for me. I miss you, you know? I wish you could…” Steve trails off, swallowing down the burn that keeps rising in his throat. “I love you. And I always will.”


	7. Chapter 7

The journey to Alsoten-Ra is incredible; space is  _ beautiful, _ and Steve can’t help but think of Bucky and how it must have felt for him, in all his exuberance, to finally be out into the universe. The planet itself is even more incredible. From a distance, it’s blue and green and lush, but closer up there’s a massive city that serves as the Voyager capital. 

Natasha pilots her ship to a sprawling building complex, and Steve can’t help but gawk at it. It’s an impressive mix of stone and metal and glass, stunning and complicated and sleek all at once somehow. He’s never seen anything like it in his life, which, he admits to himself wryly, is a feeling he’s going to have a lot from now on.

Natasha lands in a docking bay, and Sam shows Steve how to help someone power down and secure a spaceship. Natasha is talking to someone over an intercom, and Steve can overhear a “we’ll be there soon.”

“Where are we going?” he asks Sam as they work. 

“Fury wants to see you.”

“Who’s Fury? You said that name back on Terra IV but didn’t tell me who that is. Are they the head of the League of Voyagers?”

Sam keeps his face trained on the panel on which he’s currently flipping switches, but Steve can see him flit his eyes toward Steve quickly before looking forward again. He obviously doesn’t want to answer, which sends a zip of anxiety down Steve’s spine.

“Sam.”

“I’ll let Fury answer that when we see him. You’re not in trouble or anything. It’s just...you’ll see.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

Sam huffs out a laugh and turns toward Steve. He pats him on the shoulder and shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Nat and I will be with you the whole time, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“You boys ready?” Natasha says right behind Steve, which makes him jump. He hadn’t even heard her walk over.

“Fuck, Nat, was that really necessary?”

She smirks at him before wiggling one of her perfectly arched eyebrows.

They get into a crowded elevator, where Steve somehow ends up in the middle of a group of large beings. He tries not to stare, but a few of them are so alien that Steve can’t help himself. They smile at him when they catch him staring, and he ducks his head with a quiet “sorry,” the blush burning its way onto his cheeks.

Natasha says “executive level” to the elevator, and Steve flinches and looks around when it responds “access granted” back. Sam smiles and knocks an elbow into Steve’s arm. “The A.I. is incredibly advanced. You get used to it.”

“A.I. Huh. You have an A.I. for the elevator?”

“Nah, it’s for the whole building. Among other things. It’s cool, you’ll like it.”

“I’ll take your word on that.”

Sam chuckles, and Steve goes back to watching the floors tick by. The elevator is empty by the time it takes them up to the executive level, and every single being who’d gotten off had glanced back at Steve with curiosity on their faces. Steve’s really feeling off-kilter now, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

Natasha has to retinal scan into a room once they leave the elevator, and Steve can feel himself tensing up. The lock blinks green, and Natasha opens it for Sam and him to walk through. The room is a massive office, it looks like. There’s a huge desk with built-in bookshelves on one of the narrow ends, a seating area with sleek, comfortable couches in the middle. The far wall is translucent, glass or some other technology, Steve’s not certain. Whatever it’s made of, it provides an absolutely incredible view of the city below, and the forested hills beyond, the white-tipped mountains beyond that. Steve’s fingers itch for a pencil and sketchbook.

There’s a man standing in front of the windows, looking out. He’s bald, his skin dark like Sam’s. He’s wearing a long black leather coat, black pants, black gloves. When he turns to look at Steve, he’s got a black eye patch covering one eye, deep scars peeking out either side, a slash down his face. Steve straightens at the assessing look the man gives him. But he doesn’t break eye contact, and he doesn’t back down.

The man quirks a little smile after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a minute, there and gone before Steve can blink. “Steven Grant Rogers,” he says, his voice melodic and strong. “Welcome to Alsoten-Ra.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And polite, too! They teach you that on Terra IV?”

“I would hope they’d teach that one just about anywhere, sir.”

The man chuckles and unclasps his hands from behind his back. “Fair enough,” he says, gesturing to the seating area. “Why don’t we all sit down and get comfortable, and you can tell me all about yourself, Steve.”

“With respect, sir, I’m pretty sure you already know more about me than I know about myself.”

The man barks a surprised laugh and tilts his head, reassessing Steve. He looks over at Natasha, who smiles and shrugs back. “Okay, Mr. Rogers. Point taken. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get to my own point, then?”

Steve nods and sits down on one of the couches. Sam comes over and sits next to him. Natasha joins the other man, who must be Fury, and they all settle in.

“Now, Steve — I suppose since you’ve been so polite to me, I should return the favor and ask if it’s okay to call you Steve.”

“Only if you introduce yourself first.”

The man leans back and smiles at Steve. “You know, I think I’m beginning to like you. I’m Nick Fury. But I think you already guessed that.”

Steve nods. “No harm in having it confirmed.”

“No there is not. So, Steve, I’d like you to tell me everything that Bucky ever told you about the places he traveled to, as well as anything you can remember about the day Bucky took you off-world. Assume Natasha hasn’t already told me everything that you told her.”

Steve nods and starts talking. Fury listens intently, leaning forward on the couch when Steve gets to the part about how there seems to be some sort of mental block in place around the day Bucky took him, as well as one of the places Bucky traveled.

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Fury says to Natasha when Steve is done. 

“I don’t think it is, either,” Steve agrees.

“Tell him about your Sight dreams about Bucky,” Sam tells Steve. 

“Yes, please,” Fury says. “I am very interested to hear about this.”

So Steve does. By the time he’s done, Fury’s face has changed from completely neutral to mildly concerned. Steve thinks that if even that much is showing on his face, then it must be pretty bad.

“And how often do you have this dream?” Fury asks. His right hand is resting on his thigh, and his index finger has started tapping an even staccato. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

“About once a month, but I haven’t had it since I became a Voyager. I’m due, to tell the truth.”

Fury doesn’t say anything in response, his finger tapping away on his thigh. Steve wonders if he knows he’s doing it or if he’s doing it on purpose to elicit some sort of response from Steve. Fuck, but he hates these sort of mind games. He’d rather just put everything out in the open than this secret spy sort of bullshit.

“Well,” Fury says suddenly, making Steve flinch slightly, “thank you for coming in and speaking with me. I’m going to see if I can’t get someone here who can help us try and break through that mental block you’ve got going on. In the meantime,” he says to Sam and Natasha, “why don’t you two help Steve get settled in?”

“Wait, that’s it?” Steve asks.

“That’s it,” Fury tells him.

“I have some questions of my own.”

Fury looks at him blankly before making a “go ahead” hand gesture.

“Are you the head of the Voyagers or something?”

Fury huffs. “No, I am not. But they know you’re here, and that we are speaking to you and getting you settled. They’ve given their blessing. I’m the head of a little Initiative we have here.”

“What kind of initiative?”

“The saving Voyagers and saving the universe kind. We keep our ears open for any sort of organized evildoing we come across and take steps to eliminate it. We also keep track of all our Voyagers and go looking for them if they ever go missing.”

“Oh, that’s, uh — that’s good. That there are people out there doing that. Wait. Are you trying to recruit me?”

“That remains to be seen, Mr. Rogers.” Fury tilts his chin up at Natasha, who comes over and gently but firmly grasps Steve’s elbow.

“Come on,” she says, leading him out of the office. “Let’s go see about getting you a house.”

~~~

Sam and Natasha take him to the housing department within the same complex as Fury’s office. They get Steve’s housing assignment and load into a transport that will take him there. It’s about fifteen minutes away from the heart of the city, far enough away that the din of the city is drowned out by the tall trees that line the front and backyards of the houses they pass. 

Steve’s house is utterly charming when the pull up to the right address. It’s a beautiful blue color with white shutters around the windows. The second story has a pitched roof that overhangs the first, making a lovely little porch. There are plants hanging in baskets and an arbored gate that opens onto the front walkway to the house. 

Steve pauses when he gets to the gate and takes a moment to close his eyes and just breathe. There are insects buzzing as they fly by, and he can hear the unfamiliar songs of the birds that inhabit the planet. The air smells so different here; it’s cleaner, fresher, not tinged with the smell of Xytar. There’s only one sun here, and its rays feel good on Steve’s face, the light breeze tickling at his hair. It’s peaceful, and it’s his. He wonders how long it will take for him to really feel it.

Sam touches his elbow, and Steve looks at him, nodding to wipe away the concern he sees on Sam’s face. Steve opens the gate and steps toward his house. 

The interior is just as charming as the outside. There’s comfortable furniture in the appropriate rooms, a dining set in its own room, which feels overly extravagant to Steve. The kitchen is large and airy and fully equipped. There’s a den at the back of the house with windows on three walls that’s letting in an incredible amount of light. Someone’s set it up as an art studio: an easel and canvasses sit in one corner of the room, and a large desk with all manner of art supplies is pushed up against one of the walls. There’s a chaise in another corner with a soft gray blanket folded over the arm. Steve imagines Bucky lounging there reading a book aloud while he paints, and he has to turn away from the room.

There are three large bedrooms on the second floor, one with its own extravagant bathroom that’s supposed to be Steve’s room. The second bathroom is for the two other bedrooms on the floor. Everything is well-constructed and gorgeous: the tiles are lovely, the paint on the walls rich and colorful. It’s everything he imagined his house could be. It’s just missing all the people he pictured living with him, is all.

He’s also not sure why he needs a house with three bedrooms and says as much to Natasha.

She shrugs at him. “We all get enough space. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“Some Voyagers fall in love and want to live together. Some have kids or adopt kids, but… well, not many people want to outlive their children, so it’s kind of rare.”

“Oh.” Steve never stopped to think about that, about how being a Voyager means outliving people you love.

“It’s why we care so much for our own,” Sam continues. “You get attached to people you see on and off for decades and decades.”

They finish showing Steve his house and teach him how to use all the tech inside. There are transponders and pocket computers and wrist communicators. There’s the house’s A.I. and a universal translator that fits in his ear. Natasha asks for Steve’s arm at one point, pulling out what looks to be a thick sort of writing device and pressing it against the skin on Steve’s inner elbow. He hisses when she presses the end and a halo of needles shoots out into his skin.

“What the hell was that?” Steve gripes, rubbing at his arm, watching as the needle marks fade before his eyes. 

“Vaccines, lots of them,” she says. “And a very small locator chip. It uses your body’s electrical pulses to send a signal in case we need to find you.”

“Bucky’s was in his left arm, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what our records indicate, yes.”

“We’ll find him, Steve,” Sam says. “Anyway, get some rest. Tomorrow we start testing and training and all of that good stuff.”

The first night alone in his house is long and lonely. He aches for Bucky and a glass house and stars above.

~~~

Sam wasn’t kidding when he said there would be testing. A team of scientists or doctors, or maybe a mix of both, draw blood and take saliva, among other things. There’s a baseline endurance test, a baseline strength test, a baseline speed test. He gets workout regimens tailored to his body, and nutrition goals and guidelines because apparently his body burns more calories now. Increased metabolism or something. 

He learns all sorts of things they only tell you about Voyagers once you become one: you’re stronger, faster, have better reflexes, better sight, better hearing. You heal incredibly fast, and your brain works smoother and faster. You can remember more and recall it with perfect clarity. Steve already could do that, but the doctors tell him it will be dialed up even further.

A Voyager’s drive to explore also comes with responsibilities: you file a report on every planet you visit in order to build a database of the universe, and to help monitor universal trends. Your ship has instruments that will map your path and automatically measure the atmosphere of any planet you visit, will take light and dark measurements to calculate the length of a day. 

It’s all fascinating and overwhelming. Steve can’t help but wonder what Bucky made of all this. He thinks he would have taken the mission report aspect very seriously. Steve thinks about asking if he can read some of Bucky’s reports.

“If our ships automatically track flight plans, and we file reports on every planet we visit, shouldn’t there be records of the place Bucky took me? Since he’d been there before?” Steve asks once he, Natasha, and Sam are alone in a training gym.

Natasha nods at him. “That’s a good thought, and we checked. The files were wiped clean.”

Steve frowns at her. “Who could do that?”

“We’re not sure, but we’re looking into it. Now come on, it’s time to start your combat training.”

“My what?”

“Hand-to-hand fighting, Steve. Martial arts, self-defense. You know, just in case things start to go a little south somewhere and you need to punch your way out,” Sam tells him. “Have you had any training like that before?”

“Uh, no. No, I have not.”

“Oh, good. This will be fun, then,” Natasha says right before she sweeps Steve’s legs out from under him. He grunts as he hits the mat hard, groaning as he gets up to one knee. He glares at Natasha, who grins back wolfishly at him. 

“Oh, it’s on now!” he exclaims, getting to his feet and setting them under himself. Natasha’s smile widens and reaches her eyes as she moves in to attack again. Steve lasts three moves before he’s on his ass this time, and six moves the second time they spar.

The third time she comes at him, though, he senses that she’s going to kick at his ribs, and he catches her leg and throws her to the ground using her momentum. She hits the mat hard and looks back up at Steve, stunned. To be fair to her, Steve’s pretty stunned himself.

She wipes the blood away from her nose with the back of her hand. “How the  _ fuck _ did you do that, Rogers? I thought you said you didn’t have any training!”

“I don’t!” he protests. “I just sensed that you were going to kick me. Premonition, I guess.” Sam and Natasha share a glance before looking back to Steve. 

“Try it on Sam,” Natasha says, accepting Steve’s hand and letting him pull her to her feet.

Sam beats Steve the first two rounds they fight. On the third, Steve has a premonition and drops Sam to the ground. Natasha tells Steve and Sam to wait here and leaves the room.

“What is going on?” Steve asks, more than a little confused. His Sight has never manifested in this way before.

“I have no idea,” Sam replies. “Honestly, I was kind of hoping you could fill me in.”

Steve shakes his head and sighs, rubbing his hands on his face. Sam looks concerned when Steve looks back up at him, but before he can say anything, the door to the gym opens back up. Natasha strides through the door, followed by Nick Fury and a stern-looking woman with dark brown hair. 

They stop in front of Steve, and the woman holds out her hand for Steve to shake. “I’m Maria Hill,” she says, her grip strong when Steve clasps her hand. “And you’re Steve Rogers. So, Steve, why don’t you spar with me and see if we can figure out what’s going on.”

Steve looks to Fury, who nods slightly, then to Natasha and Sam. They nod at him, too, so he shrugs and gets into a fighting stance on one of the mats. Maria drops him, hard. Then again. She’s good, and fast, very unpredictable, and Steve’s not sure it’s going to work this time because she comes for him almost before he’s even set to start their third round. But Steve senses that she’s going to feign right and sidesteps before she can, using her momentum to push her to the ground and kneel on her back, pinning her down.

“Holy shit,” Natasha whispers. Steve gets up and pulls Maria to her feet. She’s beaming at him and pats him on the shoulder.

“You’ve really never had any training?” she asks.

“None.”

“Try Natasha again,” Fury says, so Steve does. He pins her in the first round this time. He tries Sam again, and then Maria. First round.

“Well, I’ll be,” Fury says, awe in his voice.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Steve practically begs. He didn’t know he could do any of this, and he’s feeling extremely off-kilter about the whole thing. It’s not helping that Fury looks like he wants to hold Steve’s hand and tell him secrets.

“All Voyagers learn martial arts and self-defense skills just in case. Weapons training, too. Natasha, Sam, and Maria all learned different fighting styles. They’ve spent years learning and perfecting them. And you just took them all out in less than ten minutes. With no experience. Because you’re a Seer, too, and are having premonitions during a fight. We’re in uncharted territory here, Steve. No one has ever been a Seer and a Voyager, and the truth is, we just don’t know what you’re capable of yet.”

“Lucky me,” Steve quips, dryly.

“Welcome to the Initiative, Rogers,” Fury says, smiling. He turns to walk away, Hill following behind. 

“Uh, you never actually asked me!” Steve calls after him.

“Please. We both know you aren’t the type to turn down the chance to make a difference, especially on a universal scale,” Fury says as he continues to walk away. He lifts his right hand and gives a jaunty little wave before he and Hill leave the room.

“Well, shit,” Steve huffs out.

Sam breaks into a laugh, and Natasha smiles at him, and wonder of wonders, it actually reaches her eyes. “Let’s go celebrate. Tomorrow the real fun begins.”

~~~

Steve hunches over, hands on his knees, gulping in air as he tries to catch his breath. “You and I have very different definitions of fun,” he says, in between breaths. 

Natasha’s lips curl into a sharp smile. “Again,” is all she says. 

Steve sighs and straightens up and runs the training course again.

~~~

It’s a long five months of training, but by the end, Steve feels strong and fast and hungry to be off-world.

~~~

A month before they go out on their first off-world mission, Nat and Sam bring him to the sparring gym and tell him how every Voyager has a weapon or something special to help in case they get into tight spots.

Steve counters that he thought they were supposed to be revered and treated well everywhere they go.

“That’s usually the case, but not always. You can guess that there are plenty of beings out in the universe who’d love to best a Voyager,” Sam says.

“It’s why doubling up is better whenever possible.”

“Did Bucky double up?”

“Sometimes. Sam and I went with him a few times, but he spent more time with this Asgardian named Loki.” Steve perks up.

Natasha holds up her hand. “We’ve already asked him, and no, he doesn’t know where Bucky took you. They weren’t together.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Yeah. He’s worried about Bucky, too. Apparently they became pretty good friends.”

Steve nods. “Is he here? Can I talk to him anyway?” 

“I’ll put in a call, see if he can stop by the next time he’s home.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, back to the weapons. We’re going to show you ours, and then we’re going to take you to the Armory and find the right thing for you, okay?” Natasha says.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds good,” Steve answers. 

“Excellent,” Natasha says, whipping her arm out in front of her and shooting a small disc at a practice dummy. The disc hits the dummy and practically explodes with electricity. Steve looks back at her, eyebrows raised almost into his hairline.

“Stingers. One is enough to down most beings, or at least slow them down considerably.”

“ _ Cacat. _ I can see why.”

Natasha smiles and looks over Steve’s shoulder at something. He starts to turn around when he hears Sam call out from behind him, “on your left!” Steve ducks to his right as something whooshes by over his left shoulder, close enough that Steve flinches away.

He looks up and it’s  _ Sam, _ flying on a pair of mechanical wings. Sam swoops and dives and _ flies,  _ gods, he’s flying! Steve lets out a whoop of joy when Sam curls his wings in and does a flip mid-air before unfurling his wings again and flying up toward the ceiling.

Sam lands in front of Steve, panting a bit from exertion, but Steve’s the one who feels breathless. “Sam. You can  _ fly _ !”

“Yeah, I can! Pretty incredible, isn’t it?” He holds up his hand, palm-out, to Steve, who just looks at him, confusion creasing his brow. “Man, are you serious? You don’t have high fives on Terra IV?”

“Uh…”

“Just slap my hand with your palm, man, come on.” Steve does, and it is...surprisingly satisfying. He holds up his hand again, and Sam grins and high fives him. Steve laughs and holds up his hand to Natasha, who rolls her eyes but slaps his hand anyway.

~~~

The Armory is bright and airy and full of incredible things that Steve could never in his life have imagined. It’s loud and chaotic, and Steve likes it immediately. There’s a man with dark hair and impeccably groomed facial hair barking out orders to what looks like a robot or droid of some sort. Sam and Nat lead Steve toward the man, who doesn’t notice them until they stop in front of him and Natasha clears her throat.

He turns, narrowing his dark brown eyes as he fixes them on Steve. “You the Seer? Seer and Voyager? What would that make you what, a Soyager? Veer? No, those are both terrible.”

“Uh…” Steve replies helpfully.

The man flaps his hand. “Never mind, I know you are. I’m Tony, mechanical Mender extraordinaire. I suppose you’re here for your weapon or whatever.”

“Yeah, I —”

“Back in a sec, wait here!” Tony calls back to him as he’s turning away toward some shelves. There are all sorts of pieces of...things on the shelves, and Steve feels incredibly out of his depth. Sam nudges his shoulder and gives him a subtle thumbs up, which makes Steve snort. There’s some clattering by the shelves, then some banging, then some cursing, but finally Steve hears a little “yay!” and Tony comes back carrying a metal disc.

“Seriously, Stark?” Natasha asks, but Tony doesn’t spare her a glance. He hands the disc to Steve expectantly.

“Um…” Steve supplies.

“Slip your hand through the straps on the back and hold it on your forearm,” Tony instructs.

Oh, it’s a shield. “Oh, it’s a shield!” Steve puts it on, and it...wow, it feels good. It feels right. The balance is incredible, and it doesn’t feel as heavy as it looks. It’s...his. It’s his. Steve looks up at Tony and smiles. Tony snaps his fingers and touches the side of his nose before smiling back.

“Show me,” he says, and Steve is once again confused.

“The...shield?”

“No, your mark.”

Steve blinks at the change in subject. “Why?” he asks. 

“Because I’m curious. And because I made this shield and everything else in this room and all the tech you use, and I’m a genius, and if I have to wonder about it for one more minute I may literally go insane. So. Humor me. Let me see it.”

Steve blinks again but pulls his shirt up so Tony can see.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says. “Yeah, I can work with that. Come back tomorrow and you can have your shield back.” He makes grabby hands at the shield, so Steve slips it off and hands it back to Tony. “Later!” he says, turning away.

“Shouldn’t I try it out first to make sure it’s right for me?”

“Nope!” Tony calls back happily. “We all know it’s right for you.”

“Because you say it is?”

Tony stops and turns back around, a wry smile on his face. “I like you. You catch on quick. See you tomorrow,” he says, turning back around and walking away.

And that, Steve supposes, is that.

When they come back the next day, the shield has a white star in the middle of a blue field, with three red and white concentric circles surrounding it. It looks like a gaudy version of Steve’s unique mark. 

“What’s with the paint job?” he asks Tony.

“You have premonitions and can adapt quickly in a fight. The chances of you getting hurt are way less than anyone else, so why not make you the target? Draw attention to yourself so others can do the dirty work or finish the job.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised that you know that, should I?”

“Nope.”

Steve nods, his face softening. “Tony, I —” 

“Ah, ah,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “Don’t thank me until after you’ve tried it out for a week or two. This could still be a terrible idea. Well, it won’t because it was  _ my _ idea, but still. Don’t thank me. Even better, you can thank me by leaving my workshop.”

Steve turns to Nat and Sam, and they do just that. They go back to the sparring gym, and Steve tries out the shield for a while, getting used to it as a defensive and offensive tool. It’s perfect.

There’s a black shield bag waiting for him when he’s done putting it through its paces. Steve puts the shield away and takes it home. He leans it against the wall of his living room where he can see it from the couch. It helps ease the constant yearning ache that lives behind his ribs.


	8. Chapter 8

Fury calls him in later that week, and there’s a woman in his office when Steve walks in. She has long brown hair and holds her hands in a very particular way.

“Steve, this is Wanda Maximoff. Wanda, this is Steve Rogers. Wanda is a Seer.” Fury says.

“Wanda, hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” she says, accent thick. “You’ve been quite the talk of the Seers Guild as of late.”

Steve frowns and rubs at the skin between his thumb and index finger. “Word travels fast.”

Wanda hums and smiles kindly. “There were lots of dreams, you see.”

“Ah.”

“Wanda is here to try and help figure out what happened that day with Bucky.”

“Oh. I thought…”

“I know what you thought, Steve. You thought we’d forgotten about that. Right?”

Steve shrugs and nods.

Fury stands up and walks over to Steve. “Listen carefully, Steve, because I’m only going to tell you this once: Bucky is our own, and we don’t ever leave our own behind. Now, I don’t know what he did or what he promised to someone or something in order to heal you. Frankly, I don’t care. We are getting him back. We’ve been working since his disappearance, and we will continue working no matter how long it takes. We will find him, and we  _ will  _ bring him home.”

Steve chokes up and nods at Fury.

“Now, Wanda here is a Seer, like she said. But that’s not all.”

“I’m from Sokovia,” she fills in. “Have you heard of it?”

Steve shakes his head.

“It’s a beautiful place. But that’s not what makes it special. What makes it special is that everyone from Sokovia has powers.”

“What’s yours?” Steve asks, curious and nervous all at once.

“Just relax and I’ll show you,” she says as crimson tendrils shoot out from her fingers and surround Steve’s head.

When he comes to, he’s sprawled on the couch in Fury’s office. Wanda and Fury are talking quietly to each other. Steve groans at the ache in his head, and they look over to him. He sits up and scowls at Wanda, who grimaces and comes over to sit next to him on the couch.

“I’m sorry about that. We needed to make sure that you weren’t actively trying to block me.”

“You could have said something. I would have cooperated.”

“I know,” she says. “But most people try to fight it anyway until they get used to it. I’m sorry, but it was easier this way.”

Steve nods, accepting her apology, and she continues.

“You were right, there’s something blocking your memory of the day Bucky took you. And before that, as well. When he came home the first time and told you of his travels. There’s information there that he told you, but I can’t access it.”

“You can read minds?”

“Yes, among other things.”

“And something more powerful than you is shutting you out?”

“Uh-huh,” Fury says. “Worrying, isn’t it?”

“And this is what you think has Bucky? Or knows where he is?”

“Yeah. Trouble is, this was our best lead, so now we’re back to where we started.”

Steve sits back and sighs. He rubs at his temples, and Fury goes over to his bar cart and pours Steve a glass of water. “We’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way, see if we can’t ferret out just what in the hell is going on here.”

“There’s something else,” Wanda says, turning to face Steve. “The shadow dream. You need to tell them about it.”

“We know about it,” Fury says, handing the glass of water to Steve, who gulps it down.

“I think you should see it,” Wanda says. “It’s...evolving.”

Steve frowns at Wanda. “It hasn’t changed in all the times I’ve had it, except for the location.

Wanda nods at him. “It will the next time you have it.”

“How is he supposed to see it?” Steve asks.

“I can access your dream and project it for anyone in the room to see it, but you’ll have to be asleep first. Truly asleep, not put there by my hand.”

Fury looks to Steve, eyebrow raised as if asking for Steve’s permission to try it.

Steve shrugs and says, “okay. Let’s do it, if you think it will help.”

Fury goes over to his desk to call into the intercom, “bring me Romanov, Wilson, and Hill. Who else is on-world?”

“What, now?” Steve asks.

“Why not now?” Fury retorts.

“It’s the middle of the day, and I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep here, in your office, in the middle of the day.”

Fury frowns at Steve before the intercom crackles back to life. He tells whomever is on the other end to send any active Initiative members who are on-world to his office, urgently. He turns back to Steve when he’s clicked off the intercom. “We’ll apprise everyone of the situation and get it scheduled for later tonight. We’ll set up a bed in one of the large conference rooms, try and make it more pleasant. That should be better.”

Steve and Wanda settle in to wait for the other Voyagers to show up, and they make some small talk. She tells Steve about Sokovia, about her brother, Pietro, about how she started working with Fury and his Initiative. Her voice is kind and melodic, and Steve appreciates that she doesn’t bring up the fact that she can tell he’s anxious. She keeps the conversation flowing and only asks him the easiest of questions, and she patently ignores how often he works at the skin between his thumb and index finger.

Natasha and Sam file in after a bit, and they know Wanda, so the three of them catch up. Steve lets their conversation flow over him as he zones out, and the others blessedly let him be. There are only three others on-world that Steve hasn’t met yet. Two of them are laughing as they enter the room, and Steve looks up. They’re familiar with each other, casual about it. One has green skin with these faint silver patterns on her face, her hair dark at the roots and turning burgundy by the tips. The other has blue skin and dark hair that looks blue or green depending on the light and the way she turns. Her voice is rich and smoky. 

The green-skinned woman introduces herself as Gamora, and the other woman is her sister, Nebula. Steve can feel Nebula’s gaze on him, so he looks her in the eye and doesn’t look away as she assesses him. She tilts her head one way then the other before smiling a wolfish smile that reminds him of Natasha. “He’ll do,” she says, and Steve feels something loosen in his chest though he doesn’t really know what she means.

They’re joined a bit later by an extremely handsome giant of a man named Thor. He’s the brother of Loki, Bucky’s friend, and tells them Loki is off chasing a lead he thinks is promising on a planet called Sakaar. He sits down next to Steve and tells him, “I’m sorry about your friend,” in such a gentle and earnest way that it brings tears to Steve’s eyes. He nods at Thor and looks away, blinking hard to try and keep them from spilling over.

Maria Hill comes in once everyone else is there, and Fury clears his throat to get their attention. Steve lets his mind wander a little bit while Fury fills in the rest of the group about the plan to have Wanda project his Sight dream, and of course it wanders to Bucky. He thinks about all the times Bucky used to graze his fingers over the moles on his throat when he thought Steve was asleep, how hard it was to not laugh and ruin everything when it tickled. Bucky was always fascinated by those marks and would constantly kiss and nibble on them, trace them with his tongue, suck bruises over them in the night just to hear Steve gasp.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you, Rogers?” Steve hears Fury ask, and he shakes his head a bit to clear the memory. He looks at Fury, whose face is contorted with the effort of not laughing at Steve. Everyone else is silent and doing the same, so Steve just shrugs and tries to ignore the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears burn.

“As I was saying, we’ll set up a conference room for this. Natasha is going to run some training first to burn off some energy, so whoever wants can join Steve there. Then dinner together, so eat a lot so you’re full and sleepy, Steve. We’ll reconvene here at 9:30. Steve, go home and get sparring clothes and whatever you sleep in and bring it back here.”

“Uh…” Steve can feel his blush spreading even further.

Fury sighs and pinches his nose, but Sam and Nebula snort. Thor just smiles and gives him a thumbs up. “Bring some clothes to sleep in  _ tonight, _ ” Fury sighs. “Dinner is at 7:30. You’re dismissed until then if you’re not training.”

Everyone comes to the sparring session. Steve thinks it’s because Natasha told them about his fighting premonitions and they want to see it for themselves, which Nebula confirms when she steps onto the mat and says, “bet I’ll crush you before you even make it to the third round.”

It’s a close thing, but she doesn’t. Steve’s had more training now, and he’s getting quite good with his shield, so by the third round, Nebula is no problem. She handles her defeat by screaming in rage, then stalking off to scowl by the wall of the room.

“She likes you,” Gamora says, stepping in for her turn. “She would have done something way worse than scream if she didn’t.” Gamora is much more gracious in defeat, but she’s clearly also not happy about being beaten.

Thor, on the other hand, is practically wiggling he’s so excited to take Steve on. He has this...hammer thing as his weapon, and Steve’s never seen anything like it. Doesn’t look like any hammer he’s ever seen, at any rate. Steve figures out pretty quickly that it will come back to Thor’s hand after he’s thrown it. And by ‘figure out’, he means ‘it hit him in the face’ on the way back to Thor’s hand.

“Did Tony make that?” Steve asks, spitting out a bit of blood. 

“Oh, Mjolnir?” Thor smiles smugly and spins the hammer thing — Mjolnir, apparently — around by a loop on its short handle. “No, this is from my father, Odin. It’s special, you see.”

“Think I’m beginning to,” Steve grunts, setting his feet for round two. He doesn’t take another hammer to the face, thankfully, but it’s a close thing. Thor’s smile gets even more smug at the beginning of round three, and Steve finds he really likes this guy, but he still can’t wait to wipe that look off his face. Steve freezes a couple minutes into the fight when his premonition hits. “Lightning? What…” He gets his shield up just in time to block a fucking lightning bolt Thor’s called down through his hammer, and when he looks back at Thor, the asshole just shrugs and says “oops.”

Steve grins at him, baring his teeth. Oh, this is going to be  _ fun. _

Steve hadn’t realized just how much he was holding back when he sparred with Sam and Natasha until he’s in the ring with Thor, pushing his new body to the limit. It makes his blood sing to really open up and let himself go like this. Thor is incredibly strong and surprisingly fast, and 1,500 years old, apparently, some sort of demigod. Steve gives him as much as he can handle and more besides, and they’re both bloody and bruised and grinning like idiots by the time they’ve worn each other out.

“All right, you showoffs,” Natasha smirks. “Go clean up and get dressed. It’s almost dinner time.”

Dinner is surprisingly good. Steve was dreading having to be social around so many people, but the food is excellent, the company better. Thor sits next to Steve and ends up being an incredible storyteller. Steve tells him so at one point, and he replies that Steve should hear his brother some time because he’s the real talent of the family. Thor has the whole table laughing for most of the night, Sam firing back some incredible one-liners. It’s the most fun Steve has had in months. Years, maybe. Jimmy was great, and Steve misses him sometimes, but Steve was too far into his own head to really allow himself to open up to Jimmy. 

But these people around him tonight...maybe. Maybe.

~~~

Steve sighs and flops over on the bed. He hears someone stifle a groan across the room, and he calls out, “it’s just weird trying to fall asleep in front of so many people, okay?!”

Sam and Natasha snort, and Steve sits up and punches his pillow a few times before laying back down again. Maybe if he rolls onto his stomach. 

He ends up thinking about Bucky and how warm he was, how safe Steve felt sleeping in his arms. Or, well, falling asleep in his arms, at least, because Bucky twitched and kicked and flailed like a dying fish while he slept. But oh, did he love to pull Steve close and have him tuck his head onto Bucky’s chest, and hold him tight until he fell asleep. Steve smiles and pulls his covers close, the warmth and his memories finally pulling him under.

Steve wakes with a sigh, groaning when he realizes he’s soaked with sweat. The apartment is sweltering in the afternoon suns. The atmo conditioning must be on the fritz again. Steve sighs again and tosses off his blanket, crossing his bedroom to open the window in the hopes of getting a breeze. The winds should be starting to shift soon, which will send the breeze in his direction. 

He pauses in front of the window and closes his eyes, taking in the sounds of the Xytar fields in the distance; the clang of heavy machinery, the hum of the generators, the shouts of the workers. “Steve,” they’re saying, far away. “Steve,” they’re saying, closer now. “Steve,” their voices carry on the wind.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts, outside the apartment. “Steve, come on!”

“Okay!” Steve shouts back, his eyes still closed. He turns and heads out of his bedroom, down to the lobby of their building, the doors hissing as they calibrate the atmosphere between the building and the world outside.

The doors finally open, and Steve steps outside into the sunlight. “There you are!” Bucky says next to Steve, and he turns to see his friend, a smile stretching wide across his handsome face, his slate eyes twinkling in the golden light. 

“Come on, I want to show you something!” Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s wrist, tugging him toward the trees in the distance. Steve laughs and lets Bucky pull him along, gasping when they startle a bird out of the tall grass. It squawks and flies up into the air, its long tail feathers shimmering in the bright, clear sunlight. Bucky laughs and runs ahead, into the forest that’s right in front of him.

Steve pauses and watches him run around the trees, breathless with awe. The trees are stunning and bizarre and wonderful, forty feet tall with weeping canopies in bold, bright colors. The trunks are bent and curved, and they look almost physically impossible. 

“Steve, come on!” Bucky shouts again, and Steve laughs and follows, through the tall grass below the mountains, the forest far behind him now. Bucky gasps and Steve whips his head around to find a herd of black-and-white striped beasts speeding away from a pack of muscled predators, their sharp teeth snapping at the striped beasts’s heels.

Steve looks away from the creatures to see where Bucky went, and he’s right beside him and reaching out to pull Steve flush with his body. He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, and Steve hums happily and nuzzles his face into Bucky’s throat. 

“I wish we could do this forever,” Bucky says, the vibrations tickling Steve’s nose. He giggles and kisses Bucky right on the bolt of the jaw, which draws a happy little noise out of Bucky.

They stay like that until the sun gets low in the sky, a few stars popping up here and there, and they almost look close enough to touch. Bucky points toward the sky from the top of the mountain they’re on. “That’s Rowaszlo,” he says, “and that one is Yr Gor. That one over there, see the big blue one? That’s Andierr.”

Bucky laughs, and they’re down on the plains again, Bucky running ahead, whooping as he jumps and sends some ground birds aloft. Steve rolls his eyes at the antics but smiles anyway. His smile fades when he notices a shadow in the corner of his eye. As he turns to look at it, it grows and spreads. It’s like smoke, thick and roiling, and it’s getting bigger and bigger. Steve tries to run to Bucky, but he can’t move: his arms and legs aren’t working. He panics and yells for Bucky, but no sound comes out of his mouth. He can feel his scream, can feel the vibrations in his throat, but no sound passes his lips.

The shadow is expanding rapidly now, stretching toward the sky and blotting out the setting sun, creeping along the ground and eating up everything in its path. Steve screams his silent scream again, but Bucky can’t hear him. He’s still running and laughing, turning around to wave at Steve, and why can’t he  _ see _ this? Why isn’t he doing something?

The shadow sends out tendrils toward his beautiful, oblivious Bucky, and Steve opens his mouth and screams and screams and screams but makes no sound as the shadow splits into six parts, rearing up and waving around, blotting out the sky and the land. Steve tracks the movement, watching as one of them swoops back down to wind around Bucky, obscuring him from view.. Steve jolts when the shadow pulls back and he sees him again: Bucky is standing stock still a hundred meters from Steve. At least...Steve thinks it’s Bucky. He’s dressed all in black, from the bottom of his boots to the tips of his fingers, the clothing sharp and precise like he’s dressed to fight. His head is tilted down like he’s staring Steve down, but it’s hard to tell because he’s wearing a mask over the bottom of his face, and goggles over that. His hair is longer than he’s ever seen it, and it falls in waves that frame his face in what would be an incredibly appealing way if everything else about Bucky weren’t so menacing.

“Bucky?” Steve tries to say, but nothing comes out. The shadow twines tighter around Bucky, and it’s squeezing now, squeezing so tight, and he just stands there and stares at Steve and doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even twitch. Steve sees movement in the shadow behind this new Bucky, and it looks like his Bucky, as he was the day he left, except Steve can see through him like he’s a ghost. Ghost Bucky is straining and trying to pull himself out of the other Bucky, but he can’t, and he’s desperate, he’s clawing and fighting and he sees Steve and reaches for him, soundlessly shouting Steve’s name over and over, but Steve can’t move, he can’t even whisper, and the shadow squeezes and squeezes and swallows Bucky whole.

Steve wakes gasping, and Sam is there by his side. Someone turns on the lights, and Steve blinks at the sudden brightness. He looks over at Wanda, and she’s panting, one hand clutching her stomach. “Are you okay?” Steve asks her breathily, and she nods, moving to sit down in a chair. 

“Are you?” she asks him in reply. And he isn’t, not really, because that version of the dream was terrible, and his adrenaline is still rushing through his veins like it hasn’t since the first time he had the dream, years ago now.

“I’ll be okay,” he tells her. “You didn’t hurt me,” and she sags a little in relief. 

Sam moves away and comes back with a glass of water, and Steve drinks it too fast, choking as the water slides down his throat in a rush. Sam slaps his back, and Steve coughs it out. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to settle himself.

“I take it that has never happened before?” Fury asks once Steve’s settled.

Steve shakes his head. “No. He’s always just been his regular self. Or, well, as he was right before he left. He’s never noticed the shadow before, and he’s never been dressed in those combat clothes with the mask and goggles. His hair...that was all new. And that ghost Bucky, trying to claw its way free…” Steve trails off. He shakes his head again and looks down at his hands.

“Why did the shadow split apart like that?” Maria asks.

“I don’t know. That’s new, too.”

“It was six parts, did you see that?” Natasha asks. 

“Six points of attack? Six planets? Six people?” Gamora brainstorms.

Fury sighs. “We just don’t know. But I most certainly intend to find out. Finding Barnes and figuring out just what in all the hells is happening is our priority number one, people. Hill, draft up an information packet and put out the call. I want full Initiative participation on this. Keep exploring. Find out who these beings are and what they are doing. Go with a partner if you can, and be gods-damn careful. 

“Make backup copies of all your data and keep them on you. Someone managed to access our files and clean the copy of the mission report Barnes sent about the planet he took Steve to. Tony is investigating and thinks he’s close to finding out who did it, but in the meantime, back everything up and keep it safe. Check in as often as possible, and stop back here whenever you can. I don’t want to lose anyone else, understood?”

Everyone in the room voices their assent. “Good,” Fury says. “Okay, go get some sleep. We’ll start again in the morning.”

~~~

Steve’s nervous the first time he goes off-world with Sam and Natasha. He’s glad they’re both with him and tells him so. Natasha just nods and continues prepping her ship for departure, but Sam claps him on the shoulder and distracts him with stories about the prank wars he and his sisters used to have when they were growing up. Steve’s crying with laughter by the time Natasha comes in to say they’re ready to depart.

Steve takes a few fortifying breaths and straps himself into a seat and tries to remember his training. Everything goes smoothly, and the trip is incredible. Steve feels something inside his ribcage loosen a bit at how easily he takes to this new Voyager role. Growing up, he never truly thought he’d get to live a long and full life, so he never let himself think about what he wanted past Bucky. But now. Now he has time and time and time some more, and he thought it would be daunting, but instead it’s freeing.

He still wishes Bucky was there with him. Nat and Sam are excellent companions, but. Well, it’s not the same.

The three months he has to Voyage with Nat and Sam pass in no time at all. Fury calls Steve in before he’s supposed to spend his traditional three months Voyaging alone, and he asks Steve if he wants for forego that in light of everything that’s happening.

“Won’t that look suspicious?” he asks Fury. 

“Yeah. But I’d rather look a little suspicious than lose another person. We can always say you’re just worried about disappearing like your friend.”

Steve takes a few moments to really think about it before saying, “no, let’s do it the traditional way. I’ll be extra cautious.”

Fury nods, and Steve thinks he looks a little relieved. “All right, but on the condition that you go through the files and find planets that have been welcoming to Voyagers in the past. Safe travels, Steve.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Steve spends the next week familiarizing himself with his new ship, the  _ Brooklyn. _ He doesn’t know what Brooklyn is or was, but he likes the way it rolls off his tongue. She’s a gorgeous ship, sleek and strong, and Steve loses a couple of hours sitting in the pilot’s seat imagining what it would be like to have Bucky sitting next to him. 

Exploring the planets he visits is incredibly satisfying. He fills page after page of drawings and notes and sketches in an attempt to capture everything he sees so he can show Bucky someday. Everyone he meets are incredibly kind at best, indifferent at worst, and no one tries to harm him in any way.

Being alone on his ship, though, drifting in space...well. That’s incredibly lonely. Xytar fuels his ship, and it allows for some pretty massive distance jumps, but there’s a limit to how far it can go at a time before needing a short cooling period. It’s then that Steve feels the most alone, staring out into the vastness of space and contemplating his nigh immortality. It’s humbling and harrowing, and he can see why Voyagers tend to stick together in pairs.

Steve asked Sam once why he traveled with Natasha so often. They’re so different. It just felt to Steve like an unlikely pair. Sam sighed and told Steve that sometimes you just need someone with you who you can trust to always have your back. And while Natasha can be cagey sometimes, they’ve spent enough time together that he knows she would give her life to save his. And vice versa.

He also says that he won’t truly understand until he’s gone out on his own a few times. He was right about that, Steve thinks. He gets it now. Space is so vast, so incredibly wondrous, and one lone Voyager is nothing in its midst. Knowing there is someone nearby who gives a shit if you live or die must be incredibly comforting.

Sometimes, Steve will hover the  _ Brooklyn _ near a particularly beautiful nebula, staring at it from the cockpit, the swirling colors, the seemingly impossible delicate beauty of it. He’ll pull his legs up to his chest and wrap his arms around his shins, and he gives himself permission to fully feel just how much he misses Bucky.


	9. Chapter 9

When he gets back from his solo three months, Fury and Hill greet him at the landing pad and pin a little star on his shirt. He snorts and rolls his eyes, and Fury cracks an actual smile. “Congratulations, Steve,” Hill tells him, leaning in for a hug. Steve smiles when she pulls away. He’s a real Voyager now. Isn’t that something.

“Surprise!” Steve hears when he walks into his living room, and he flinches back. The lights flip on, and Sam, Natasha, and Thor are there waiting for him, drinks in hand. Steve puts his hand up to his chest to try and soothe his racing heart, and Thor laughs and brings him a glass of some amber liquid Steve’s never seen before.

“What is this?” he asks Thor, putting the glass to his nose and sniffing. It smells strong, whatever it is.

“Asgardian spirits,” Thor says with a wink.

“The good stuff,” Natasha fills in, raising her glass in a sort of toast before downing her drink in one go.

Sam comes in for a hug and congratulates Steve, and Steve feels warm and happy and downs his own glass. Yeah, wow, it’s definitely strong.

“Another?” Thor asks, and Steve replies, “only if there’s food, too, I’m starving.”

“Like there wouldn’t be food when Thor’s involved?” Sam teases, and Thor laughs and leads the way to the kitchen.

Steve’s lost track of how many drinks he’s had, but he feels sort of floaty and happy, and wow, Thor and Sam are so funny! And Natasha is also so funny, everyone is so_ funny. _ Except for Steve. He frowns and gets a little sad. Sam notices because he’s a good friend, and Steve tells him so.

“You’re a good friend,” he slurs, and Sam slurs back that he knows, now what’s wrong.

“‘M not funny. You’re all funny.”

“Noooooo,” Thor chimes in, “you are too! So funny, Steve!”

Steve shakes his head vehemently, and that was a mistake because the room starts spinning, and now he’s sad because he isn’t funny AND he’s dizzy because the room is moving, and why is the room moving? “You know who else was funny?” he says, closing his eyes to see if that makes the room stop spinning. It doesn’t.

“Oh, no,” Natasha says, sitting up a little straighter.

“Bucky was funny. He used to make me laugh. With jokes and things. I miss him. I love him. Uggggggghhhhhhh,” he groans, leaning over on the couch.

“Steve…” Sam starts, but he loses the thread of whatever he was going to say.

The room won’t stop spinning, and Steve misses Bucky because he loves Bucky and he was funny and nice and warm, and the most sensible thing to do about it is to start crying, so that’s what he does.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Natasha says, standing up. “No, no, no, Steve, no, please stop crying.”

“Can’t,” he sobs. “Just hafta cry,” so he does. 

~~~

Steve regrets waking up as soon as he does it: his head is pounding, his throat dry, his stomach roiling. He closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep, but he has to piss something awful, so he groans and makes his way to the bathroom. He washes his face and brushes his teeth while he’s in there, and that wakes him up enough that he decides to head down to the kitchen to drink some water and tea and maybe eat some toast or something, if he can keep it down.

He shuffles his way to the kitchen, groaning the whole time, and pulls out a glass from the cupboard. He fills it with water and gulps it down before refilling the glass and taking it to the kitchen table. He sets the glass down before slumping into a chair, leaning over and pillowing his head on his arms. He’s never drinking Thor’s alcohol _ again. _

“Fun evening, was it?” a smooth, deep voice says from across the table, and Steve yells “aah!” and bats his glass of water at the person. Or at least that’s what he tries to do. He must not have made very good contact, though, because the glass just tips over and spills water onto the table.

Steve looks up, and the man across from him has the most unimpressed look that Steve has ever seen. His arched eyebrow is dark against his pale skin, his long black hair laying perfectly on his shoulders. He folds his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrow even more, which Steve didn’t think was possible.

“Ugh,” is all Steve says before getting up to grab a towel to clean up the water. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” the man replies. Steve grunts and soaks up the spilled water before shuffling out of the kitchen to the laundry and tossing the wet towel on the floor. Future Steve can deal with that. Steve makes his way back to the kitchen, sighing when the man is still there.

“Tea?” he asks, pulling down two mugs and his strongest tea. He has a feeling he’s going to need the caffeine.

“Please,” the man replies, so Steve sets about making a pot. Steve closes his eyes and leans against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging his face while he waits for the water to boil.

“Norns,” the other man sighs, and Steve feels this odd heated tingling sensation in his head, and when it passes, his headache is gone.

“Ohh, that’s so much better,” Steve sighs happily. “Did you do that?” he asks the man. He gets a nod an an eye roll in return. “Well, thanks.”

“Had too much of Thor’s spirits, did we?” he asks archly.

“Uh, yeah. Little bit.” Steve goes to the fridge and starts pulling out bread and butter. “I’m going to make some toast. You want some?”

“No.” 

Steve shrugs and puts a couple of slices into the flash toaster, hissing when they pop right out and he grabs them, piping hot. He spreads an obscene amount of butter on each one and brings his plate back to the table. The man scrunches his nose when Steve takes a large bite out of his first piece of toast, before sighing a little and sipping at his tea. 

He waits until Steve’s finished eating to ask, “are you always like this when people break into your house?”

Steve shrugs. “If you’d wanted to hurt me or kill me, you had plenty of chances while I was asleep. So I figure you’re here for a reason and that you’ll tell me whenever you damn well please.”

The man tilts his head as the corner of his mouth turns up slightly, blink and you’ll miss it, but Steve catches it. Steve waits until the guy’s done fighting off his smile before he sits back in his chair and waits to see what this guy’s going to do next.

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“None.”

“My name is Loki.”

Steve sits up straighter in his chair.

“Ah. I see you _ have _ heard of me.” 

Steve nods. “You’re Bucky’s friend. You used to Voyage with him sometimes.”

“I am, and I did.”

“What was —” Steve cuts himself off and shakes his head. He closes his eyes and takes a breath before looking down at the table. He looks up when Loki rests his hand on top of Steve’s, and he hadn’t even realized he’d started working at the skin between his thumb and index finger, but it’s bright red and looks raw. Loki gently pulls Steve’s hands apart before withdrawing his own and folding them onto his lap. He takes a breath and starts talking.

“We were on this planet once, Ilsotha it was called. The conditions there were...well, the less said about them the better. James was having a hard time, and I don’t blame him. The beings there were so impoverished and broken down. They’d never seen a Voyager before, let alone two, and everyone was quietly respectful, but their eyes were dead and lifeless. It was unnerving. 

“Eventually James just couldn’t stand it anymore, so he reached into his pocket and brought out this little brass disc. He opened it, and inside was this narrow metal spinner on a marked background, 360 degrees counted out around the edge. A compass, he told me it was called. I’d never seen one before. He said they were used for navigation on Terra way back when. Apparently the magnetic field made the needle point north no matter which direction you were facing. I can imagine how useful that was. I wonder if a Guide invented it… Well, that’s of no consequence.

“I wanted to leave as soon as we could, but James...he held out this compass to the children, let them look at it. The magnetic field on Ilsotha was clearly not designed for this device because the needle was spinning and spinning and spinning, and the children lit up watching it. They looked at it and looked at James and then burst into laughter. Their eyes weren’t so dead anymore, you could see a little spark behind them. 

“Then one of them asked about the picture, who it was. And James said, ‘that’s my Steve. He lives on a planet far away. He gave me this so I could always have him with me when we’re not together. You’d like him. We used to get into so much trouble, the two of us.’ He spent an hour telling stories about the mischief you two caused when you were growing up.

When it was time to leave, the children wrapped all four of their arms around his legs and scurried away to go play, giggling and teasing each other. The adults came and touched his shoulders gently, reverently. He gave those beings an incredible gift that day, and I was honored to bear witness.”

Steve smiles and nods his head at Loki in thanks, swallowing down the burn in his throat and wiping at his eyes. Gods, Steve can see Bucky doing that, every last bit of it. He was always so kind, so _ good. _ Fuck, but Steve misses him.

Loki smiles kindly when Steve looks back up at him, ready to continue their conversation. “Now,” Loki says, “tell me something wholly idiotic that James did when the two of you were young to balance out that insufferable altruism.”

Steve barks out a laugh and sits back in his chair, thinking about which story would be best to tell. He huffs when he thinks of the right one and starts talking. “When we were ten or eleven, Bucky and I snuck away to this old abandoned building. There was this row of hedges growing around the walls, and Bucky bet me that he could climb up to the roof and jump off the building and clear the hedges and land on his feet and everything. I said I bet that I could do it, too, and he said ‘nuh-uh,’ so of course I had to try it, too.”

“Oh, no, I think I see where this is heading,” Loki groaned. 

Steve grinned and continued. “So Bucky and I climb up to the roof of the building — and it was one story, so like 12 feet maybe. He takes a running start and leaps off the edge and clears the hedges and lands on his feet and kind of does that roll thing before coming to a stop, safe and sound. He whoops and looks up at me and shouts, ‘you sure you want to try it, Stevie?’ Which is basically a surefire way to get me to try.

Now, before I became a Voyager, I was sickly and scrawny, more fight than sense, with bad lungs, a bad heart, bad spine, you name it. So not only was this a monumentally stupid thing to do, it was even stupider for _ me _ to do.”

“So of course you do it.”

Steve nods. “I do it. Or, more accurately, I _ try _ to do it. I take a running start, but as I go to jump off the building, I catch my toe on the ledge and fall ass over end and do a flip in the air. I clipped the edge of the hedge on the way down, and I land pretty much on my head and knock myself out cold.

Now, Bucky told me later that he tried to wake me up by calling my name, but I was out cold, and he panicked and thought I was dead. He thought his dare had gotten me, his best friend in the whole world, killed. So he ran home. He ran home and locked himself in his room and didn’t tell anyone what had happened to me.”

Loki gasps. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he sure did. So I come to a couple of hours later, and my head hurts but otherwise I’m fine. I start walking home, and when I get back, my ma isn’t home from work yet, so I go over to Bucky’s apartment to find him. I probably wanted to ask him why he’d left me lying on the ground and all. So I walk into his family’s apartment, and he’s sitting on the couch staring out the window. He looked really sad, so I just let him be. I went into the kitchen to get a snack, because knocking yourself out is hungry work apparently, and Bucky’s mom was in there, so I start chatting with her. 

“About ten minutes later, Bucky comes walking into the kitchen, and he sees me and drops the plate he was holding in his hand. He goes white as a sheet and looks at me then looks at his mom and asks, ‘can you see him?’ His mom is utterly confused and says, ‘Steve? Can I see Steve? Of course I can see him. He’s standing right next to me!’

At this point Bucky breaks down and starts wailing and crying, and between sobs he manages to get out, ‘Steve, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for you to die and become a ghost and get stuck here with us! I didn’t mean for that to happen! Please don’t be upset, even though you’re a ghost!”

Loki throws his head back and starts laughing. “Oh, poor James, you must have given him such a fright!”

“His poor mom was so confused, too. She kept looking at me and then looking at Bucky then looking back at me. ‘James,’ she said very calmly, ‘please tell me what’s going on.’ So he did, he spilled the beans. She managed to convince Bucky that I was not, in fact, dead, and that I had just been knocked unconscious. And she told us in no uncertain terms that we were never, ever to do that sort of thing again, which we clearly weren’t going to. We’d learned our lesson. And she came with Bucky and me to wait in my apartment for my mom to get home so we could go through the whole thing with her, too.”

“What did your mom say?”

“She got really scared then really upset, and we ended up both being grounded for like a month. Which we deserved. But Loki, you should have seen his _ face _ when he saw me and thought I was a ghost. I’ll never forget it.”

Loki’s smiling when Steve looks over at him. “Thor and I used to cause so much mischief when we were children. I’m amazed my mother ever let us out of her sight, honestly.”

“What did you do?”

Loki smirks and rubs his hands together. “One time when we were eight, I turned myself into a snake…”

They spend the day trading stories, and it’s one of the best days Steve’s had in a long time.

They talk long into the night, and Loki stays in the guest room. It’s nice having someone else in the house, Steve finds. He hopes someday he’ll have a more permanent resident with him and lets himself daydream about what it would be like to have Bucky there to wake up to, come home to.

Thor turns up mid-morning the next day and needles his brother a little bit, to Loki’s consternation and Steve’s delight. Thor asks if Steve and Loki want to join him on a Voyage, and Loki says he has business elsewhere and can’t, but Steve doesn’t see why not and says as much. And anyway, Fury had said to travel in pairs when they could to make things safer.

Thor is a good traveling companion, Steve finds. They end up spending the better part of the year together whenever they’re off-world.

~~~

Fury calls Steve and Thor back to Alsoten-Ra one day, and they hurry back to his office. Natasha and Sam are in the office, too, when they get there. After a quick greeting, Fury sits them down and starts talking.

“We found the person who changed our records and wiped Bucky’s data. His name was Heinz Kruger. He did his best to escape apprehension, but we got him and tried to take him into custody. Before we could bring him here, though, he broke a fake tooth in his mouth and crushed some sort of poison capsule. The last thing he said before he died was ‘Hail Hydra.’”

Fury keeps talking, but Steve can’t hear anything over the ringing in his head. It sounds like a high-pitched whine, and he shakes his head to try and clear it, but the sound just increases. He puts his hand to his forehead as a sharp pain starts. He leans over, groaning, and he can feel someone’s hand on his shoulder. Someone else is talking, maybe asking him a question, but it sounds far away, like they’re speaking through water.

There’s something on the tip of his tongue, something important, but he can’t form the words over the pain in his head. It’s throbbing in time with his heart beat, and the whine has died down only to be replaced by the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins. He breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly and tries to push the words past his lips. After a few more breaths, the pain starts to dull, and whatever was trying to work its way free from the recesses of his brain fades into the background once more.

Steve grunts and looks up when a glass of water gets shoved in his face. He nods his thanks to Thor and takes a few sips. Everyone in the room is looking at each other trying to figure out what just happened, their eyes turning to Steve when he coughs. “I’m okay,” he says after another sip of water.

“What in hells just happened, Steve?” Fury asks.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not sure. You said ‘Hail Hydra,’ and there was this high-pitched whine in my head, and it felt like it was splitting open from the inside. There was something on the tip of my tongue, too, something important that I was trying to say, but I couldn’t get it before I lost it again.”

Natasha looks at Fury expectantly. “Yeah,” he says to her. “Let’s see if we can’t track this down. Sorry about your head, Steve, but now we definitely know we’re on the right path. I’ll spread this around the Initiative, to be on the lookout for this Hydra and any information we can discover about it. I want to know what this thing is. Is it a creature? An organization? A movement? What are we dealing with here? Safety protocols are still in effect. Double up as often as possible. Dismissed.”

~~~

Steve is out Voyaging with Sam six months later when they get a holo call from Fury. Nebula disappeared from a mission two weeks prior. Natasha and Gamora went to her last-known location to investigate, and a witness said they overheard someone say “Hail Hydra” before Nebula was taken. All her tracking devices have been disabled. She’s now considered missing in action, like Bucky.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whispers when the holo call ends. 

~~~

Steve’s sitting in a bar in some dusty backwater planet he can’t even remember the name of. It’s hot, and he swipes at the sweat beading at his hairline, the ends of his hair damp with sweat and curling around his neck. He scratches at his beard before taking another sip of his drink. It needs a trim.

He sets the empty glass down on the bar, a little harder than necessary, and sighs. He feels tired and heavy. The last three years since Nebula’s disappearance have been hard, chasing down scraps of information that lead nowhere, slowly losing hope that he’ll ever see Bucky again. Loki is waiting in the ship for Steve to finish up so they can leave. He’d taken one look out the window when they’d landed and had turned up his nose at all the dust and grime, choosing instead to run a few experiments in the ship while Steve went out and interacted with the locals.

Steve sighs again and signals to the bartender for another. He really should be getting back, but, well. One more couldn’t hurt. The bartender pours the same reddish liquid into his glass, and as they turn away, Steve notices a symbol stamped into their leather belt. He groans as his head splits open with a piercing whine, and he gets a short vision of a temple with the same symbol carved on the walls. He leans forward and tries to breathe through the pain, and the bartender is talking again, but Steve can’t make out what they’re saying.

He feels nauseated and thinks maybe he’s going to lose it when suddenly the pain stops, and he remembers. He remembers _ everything. _

The bartender is looking at him sideways, so Steve leans in and whispers, “Hail Hydra.” They light up before schooling their features, glancing down the bar to the rest of the patrons. No one is paying any attention to them whispering at the end of the bar. 

“Are you the courier?” the bartender asks, and Steve picks up his drink, all casual even though his heart is pounding. He can’t believe his hands aren’t shaking. He nods and downs his drink. The bartender nods back before pouring Steve another round that he didn’t ask for. Steve gets the meaning, though; wait here.

The bartender starts wiping down the surface of the bar and tends to a couple other patrons, and Steve tries not to watch their every move and give up the game. He feels a little victorious thrill when the bartender makes their way to the back room. They come right to Steve when they get back to the bar, and he reaches out to down his drink to give them some cover. 

“Another?” they ask, eyes flicking to the door.

“No, thanks,” Steve says, putting some credits down on the bar. “That cover it?” he asks. 

“Sure does. Have a good day.” The bartender swipes up the credits and leaves something in their place that Steve deftly covers with his hand. “Same to you,” he says as he stands. He pockets the item as he turns toward the door. His heart is racing as he walks out of the bar, barely resisting the urge to run.

“Finally,” Loki snarks when he gets back to the ship. “I thought we’d never leave.” Loki pauses to take stock of Steve. “What happened?” he asks.

Steve just shakes his head lightly, and Loki looks past him to make sure he wasn’t followed.

“You’re clear,” he whispers as Steve passes him. They close up the ship and prepare for departure, Steve’s heart racing the entire time. It doesn’t calm down until they’re two jumps away from the shithole planet they were just on.

“Can you tell me now?” Loki asks, and Steve turns toward him from the co-pilot seat. “The bartender in the bar I was in had this symbol on their belt, and it matched the symbol of the temple Bucky took me to. It’s on a planet called H’ae D’rah.”

“Steve, that’s —”

“There’s more. I remember everything Bucky told me about it from his first visit, and more is coming back to me about the day I was there. Oh, and I managed to get this from the bartender.” Steve holds up a small data drive.

Loki grins at him. “Oh, well done! Get Fury on the holo and fill him in. Tell him we’re coming back and will be there in three hours.” Steve grins back and turns on the holo.

~~~

Fury claps Steve on the shoulder when he hands over the drive. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen Fury look so happy.

“We’ll get right on this, see what’s on here. I’m going to call in some people, put together a meeting, and then I’ll update about the drive and you can update about what you remember,” he says. “In the meantime, do you want to see if we have any information on H’ae D’rah in our files?”

Steve shakes his head. “Bucky said they’d never had a Voyager visit them before.”

Fury frowns, his forehead pinched in. “Maybe not on that part of the planet, or with those people. But maybe someone has at some point.”

Steve nods, conceding the point. “I’ll head to records, then.”

“I’ll let you know if we find anything interesting.” Fury turns away in a sweep of black leather, and Steve makes his way to the records department.

Three hours later, and empty-handed, he heads back to Fury’s office. “Enter!” Fury calls out when Steve knocks, so he pushes the door open. Fury is standing in front of a holo wall, taking a call from someone Steve doesn’t recognize. He stands off to the side and listens quietly until they end the call a couple of minutes later.

“Find anything in records?” Fury asks, turning toward Steve.

“No,” he says. “But you knew that, didn’t you?

Fury smiles like he’s impressed Steve figured it out. “I’m sorry about that, but I figured letting you look for an answer I already knew would be better than sitting at home waiting.”

Steve raises his eyebrow as he clenches his jaw. “I’d rather you be honest with me.”

Fury nods and looks as contrite as Fury ever looks. Which is not much. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Steve lets his jaw slacken. He knows better than to ask about the person on the other end of the holo call, so he doesn’t. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to head home.”

“There’s nothing else. We’re still working on the drive’s encryption. It’s pretty advanced, will take a little while. Couple of days, probably.”

“All right. I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.” Steve leaves and heads home

~~~

Sam, Natasha, Thor, Loki, Gamora, Maria, and even Tony are sitting at the large table in Fury’s office when Steve arrives three days later. 

“Steve, come in. Sit here, please,” Fury says, gesturing to the head of the table. Steve does, and Fury continues. “We’ve cracked the encryption on the data drive Steve brought back. But before I fill you in on that, I want Steve to tell us everything he remembers about H’ae D’rah, the planet where Bucky took him. And where we think Nebula is currently being held. Steve, if you would.”

Steve clears his throat gently and starts. He describes the planet as Bucky did: the miles of seas, the stone buildings, the birds and flowers. He talks about the temple and the acolytes and their leader, Al Exander. “Bucky said they were leery of him for three days until their ‘deity’ had a vision saying he was safe, or something, so they started talking to him then, showing him around the place. He didn’t think this deity was real, but they took him to this large room and did some trick with smoke, and then poof, there was this beast. It was huge, he said, and had three heads.”

“Three heads?” Tony asks. 

“That’s what he said,” Steve answers.

“Has anyone encountered a beast with three heads before?” Fury asks the room.

“I’ve met many with multiple limbs, but never with multiple heads,” Thor answers, and the others agree.

“Did he say anything else about it? Do the heads move and think independently, do they share a brain somehow?” Gamora asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s all he said about it.”

“It’s possible that whatever powers this thing has that allowed it to block these memories in Steve’s head were already working on Bucky,” Natasha points out. The others nod and turn their attention back to Steve.

“The day he took me there, I was dying, in and out of consciousness. So I don’t remember much. But there was a stone temple, like Bucky said. There was this symbol carved onto the walls.” Steve presses a button on the console in the middle of the table and a holo image of the temple’s symbol pops up. It’s a creature, its body surrounded by six tentacles. 

“That only has one head,” Sam says, frowning.

“I think it’s supposed to be some sort of metaphor,” Steve replies. “If it was a picture of the actual beast, that might give away something it doesn’t want known. This symbol was also pressed into the leather belt of the bartender who gave me the data drive.”

“So it’s their logo,” Maria says.

“Yeah, I think it is. They took me to some room, and Bucky was negotiating with something, and I think it was this three-headed beast thing because when it talked, its voice was incredibly loud and powerful, and it sounded like it came from far above me.”

“Did it physically talk or psychically? Was the voice just in your head?” Loki asks.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. It could have been psychic, but it felt physical. It said there would be a price for what Bucky asked, and he said he would pay anything. Then there was heat, and the smell of charred flesh. And screaming.” Steve stops to swallow the saliva that’s started pooling in his mouth. He takes a few deep breaths before continuing. “Bucky was screaming, and I think that’s when it took his arm. Burned it first before...I don’t know before what. Then I was screaming because my whole body was in agony. I used to be smaller, thinner, had tons of medical problems. It felt like my whole body was on fire, and I passed out. When I came to, I looked like this and was in a hospital on Terra IV.”

Fury gives everyone a moment to digest what Steve’s said before moving to stand next to him so he can speak again.

“The data drive had the names and locations of some small cells of what looks to be a terrorist organization calling themselves Hydra. At this point, we think it’s named after the planet the group originated from. Unfortunately, we still don’t have a location for H’ae D’rah the planet. Our next step is to see if we can use these small cells to gather information about H’ae D’rah’s whereabouts without attracting attention and suspicion.

We’re close, people. My estimation is that within a year, and hopefully sooner than that, we’ll be on H’ae D’rah stopping this threat for good and bringing our people home.”

“This is the shadow,” Steve realizes suddenly. “In my sight dreams: spreading to different worlds, splitting off into a number of ‘heads,’ they have Bucky under their control.”

Fury steps close and puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “That seems likely,” he says. Steve nods and blinks a few times, trying to take this all in.

“We’ll be putting together a few infiltration teams to go out and gather more information,” Fury continues. “If you aren’t on one of these teams, it’s business as usual. If you encounter anyone or anything with this Hydra symbol while you’re out Voyaging, do not engage. We don’t want to tip them off accidentally. Just report your findings, but do not engage. You’ll get the call when we’re ready to move on their main base. Stay in pairs, and stay safe. Understood?”

“Understood,” everyone choruses.

Sam, Natasha, and Thor come over and pull Steve to his feet, engulfing him in a giant hug. It feels nice, safe even. Steve sighs when they pull apart. Fury comes over and asks Steve to wait behind, so he does.

“I know you want to go out and bust some heads,” Fury says when it’s just the two of them, “but I need you to lay low until it’s time to go for the main base.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Fury holds up a hand to stop him.

“I know, Steve. I know. But we need stealth and caution right now, and, frankly, more experience. You’re still very new to Voyaging. Can you do this? Continue on as normal? Because it may jeopardize our whole mission if you don’t think you can.”

Steve clenches his fists and exhales sharply. He knows Fury is right: he’s impulsive and reckless where it comes to Bucky, and he knows he’s not ready for high-level undercover sort of work. Still. It hurts, having to wait, being left behind. Again.

“I can do it,” he says decisively.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Fury tells him. “And if there ever comes a time when you think you might do something stupid, you tell your partner if you’re out on a Voyage, or you come straight here if you’re home. Understood?”

Steve grinds his molars a little but nods anyway.

Fury nods and seems to relax at Steve’s acquiescence. “You’ve done well, Steve. This is a major breakthrough. I have a feeling things will start moving quickly from now on, okay?”

“I hope so.”

“Me too.”

~~~

Steve goes home and tries to relax, but he’s restless. He goes for a run to burn off some energy, and that helps a little, but his hands itch for something to do. He hasn’t sketched in years, and he thinks about going out to get some supplies. Instead he sits on the couch, staring out the window as he works at the skin between his fingers, dreaming of Bucky. The way his hair used to curl when it started getting long and he didn’t tame it down. The curve of his mouth when he was annoyed with Steve for something, usually justified. The cluster of freckles right above the swell of his ass that Steve used to love tracing with his tongue.

Gods. They’re so close and still so far, and it is _ maddening. _

Eventually nothing he tries calms him down, so he calls Thor, and they go out on a few short Voyages. Thor is careful not to mention Bucky or Nebula or Hydra or anything in the vicinity of those topics, and Steve is intensely grateful. Thor tries his best, he really does, but Steve’s heart really isn’t in exploring, so he thanks him and ends up brooding at home again.

He’s puttering around in his garden when Natasha walks up his front walkway. She looks tired and nervous, and Steve’s never once seen her nervous, so he’s immediately on edge. He stands up and takes his tools to the shed out back, locking it up and going inside through the back door. She follows him wordlessly, and it’s so unlike her that Steve wants to scream.

He leads her to the kitchen where she sits at the table. He goes to the sink and washes the dirt off his hands, spending more time than he really needs to work the dirt out from under his fingernails. He’s stalling, he knows he is, but once she tells him whatever it is she came here to say, he can’t ever unhear it.

He hesitates when his hands are clean, moving toward the cabinets and pulling out two mugs and some loose tea instead of sitting down at the table with her. He puts the kettle on and waits for the water to heat up, then steeps the tea. He brings the mugs to the table and sits down.

Natasha looks up at him and opens her mouth to speak. Steve cuts her off by standing up abruptly and going to the fridge for milk, then to the cabinet again for some sugar. He places them down on the table in front of her and sits back down.

She pours a little milk into her tea and stirs it, then takes a few sips before setting her mug back down on the table. She looks at Steve, and he can see pity in her eyes. His heart flops over in his chest, and he swallows hard.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a gray piece of cloth wrapped around some small object. She places it gently on the table and pushes it to him. 

He doesn’t reach for it. He stares at it, hoping to get a premonition and save himself from whatever horror is wrapped inside that cloth, but nothing comes. “Steve,” she says gently, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry.”

She unfolds the cloth, then, and inside is a compass. An old, scratched, battered compass. He knows if he opens the lid, he’ll see himself as he used to be staring back. 

Steve slumps down and puts his face into his hands and lets out a sob. Natasha gets up to comfort him, but he shakes his head and sits up straight again. He sniffles a few times, and Natasha gets up to get him a tissue. She sits there quietly while Steve pulls himself back together and asks, “where did you find this?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Someone showed it to me, all giddy, and I told them that the leaders would be very upset if they knew someone had stolen this from their prized Voyager, and they’d be looking to punish someone and wouldn’t really care if they got the right person or not. And they got all pale and gave it to me and apologized, and whatever. I knew you’d want it back, and I couldn’t stand the thought of them having this.”

“Thank you,” he whispers before clearing his throat. “It won’t jeopardize anything, getting this back?”

She shrugs. “It shouldn’t. I doubt the person who had it will want it known that they did, especially if they think they’ll be punished for it.”

Steve nods and reaches out to pick up the compass, running his fingers around the edges. “Did you open it?” he asks Natasha.

“Yes. Who painted the picture inside?”

“I did. I gave it to Bucky as a gift before he left for the first time.”

“It’s really good, Steve. And it was a lovely gift. He was really proud of it, showed it to Sam and me as soon as we took off the day we left. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have it back.”

“Think he ever will?” Steve whispers. Natasha tilts her head in confusion. “Get it back?”

She hesitates before reaching out and covering his hand with hers. “Why don’t we get some food and sit on the couch and watch something really stupid?”

Steve snorts but agrees. He holds the compass in his hand the rest of the night.

~~~

The next day, Steve goes to a shop and buys a little leather pouch that clips to his belt. He puts the compass gently inside. It takes a few weeks, but eventually it stops feeling like it’s burning a hole right through him.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve wakes up one morning, after gritting through five months of restlessness, and knows that today is the day. He dresses and wolfs down some food and heads to Fury’s office.

Fury looks up in surprise when he walks in. “Something I can help you with?” he asks.

Steve grins at his attempt to play it cool. “Today’s the day.”

Fury curses under his breath, and Steve grins wider when he hears a muttered “Seers” in there. “Yeah, okay, today’s the day. You got me. A few people still need to arrive, so we aren’t starting until later, if you want to go back home and —”

“Please, Nick.” Steve interrupts. “Just give me something to do, anything. I feel like I have ants crawling under my skin, and I just —”

Fury holds up his hand. “That is an image I did not need. Here.” He holds up a data pad, and Steve takes it. “Here are dossiers on everyone on this mission, as well as all the information I’ll be presenting at the meeting later. Why don’t you start reading through it now? Everyone else knows each other, but since you’re the new guy, you haven’t met many of the others yet.”

Steve nods and goes over to the couch, making himself comfortable and settling in to read. He can feel Fury rolling his eyes from across the room, so he makes a rude hand gesture. Fury barks out a laugh and gets back to work.

Steve reads through the dossiers, and he hadn’t realized just how large the Initiative was. There are Seers, Guides, Menders, and Voyagers all represented, all working together to try and help make the universe a better, safer place. He knows Sam, Natasha, Maria, Thor, Loki, Gamora, Nebula, Wanda, Fury, and Stark. He learns about other members now: Clint Barton, Drax, Rocket, Groot, Mantis, Dr. Stephen Strange, Valkyrie, T’Challa, Nakia, Shuri, Okoye, and Carol Danvers. They’re all incredible and powerful, and Steve can’t wait to meet them and work with them. Stark has even built a robot he calls Iron Man who apparently can be controlled remotely and adds some extra muscle to missions when needed.

Fury gathers everyone in a large conference room later that afternoon, sitting them around a large circular table, and begins his briefing. “I’m going to assume everyone has read the information packet I sent with all the information about Hydra and the threat it poses.”

He pauses and looks around the room, everyone nodding in agreeance.

“Good. Here’s where we are now: Natasha Romanov and one of our Guides, Clint Barton, have managed to infiltrate the main temple on H’ae D’rah. They’ve sent back images and maps of the temple, have made lists with names of the occupants, to the best of their abilities.” Fury brings up a 3D holo of the temple from the middle of the table. He points out the living quarters, prayer chapels, kitchens, food pantries, various other rooms, and Al Exander’s quarters and offices. “This is the main central room where the Hydra beast shows up sometimes to its supporters. So far Clint and Natasha haven’t been able to ascertain where the beast is when it isn’t in this large, central domed room, but they think any sort of attack or infiltration on the temple complex will bring it out into the open here.”

Fury brings up a 3D map of the planet.

“The plan is to come in at night on separate ships in teams of 7 or 8. We’ll rendezvous two kilometers out and make our way to the temple on foot. When we reach the temple, Natasha will open a back door so we can start infiltrating the temple. I want weapons set to stun. Let’s knock out as many of the cultists as we can, bring them in for questioning later. If we meet resistance, you are authorized to use deadly force when necessary. If we draw out the beast, that becomes priority number one. Be careful. This beast is large, powerful, and magical, and we don’t know exactly what it can do. Any questions?”

“Do we know if Nebula and Bucky are in the temple?” Steve asks.

“Nebula has been confirmed as present, but we don’t know her exact whereabouts. Bucky is an unknown,” Fury replies. No one else has any questions, so Fury continues. “Team assignments are in your data pads. Take the rest of the day to familiarize yourselves with all the maps and holos and diagrams of the island and the temple. We’ll meet up again tomorrow at 10:00 and set out. It will take five jumps to get to the planet. Once you reach atmo, you’ll fly to the coordinates in your data pad and descend in stealth mode. We’ll wait on the ground for cover of darkness. Clint Barton will meet us and guide us to the temple. Dismissed.”

Steve goes home and reads through his data packet over and over, just to give himself something productive to do. He knows all the information after the first readthrough — eidetic memory and all — he’s just antsy and nervous, and re-reading important information is better than sitting around waiting. 

He’s too nervous to sleep that night, though he tries his best. He can’t stop thinking about the mission tomorrow, about what could go wrong. Mostly he can’t stop imagining scenarios where he sees Bucky again. Sometimes Bucky finds him and joins their cause, sometimes Steve needs to rescue him, sometimes Natasha has already found Bucky and Nebula and whisks them away so the rest of the team can take down the rest of Hydra. Gods, Steve hopes he’s there. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do with himself if he’s not.

Since sleep won’t come no matter what he does, Steve takes a pillow and some blankets outside to his deck and makes himself comfortable on the chaise. He looks up at the night sky and tries to see if any constellations he can see are the same as the ones Bucky taught him on Terra IV. He spends the rest of the night looking but can’t find a single match.

~~~

Spirits are high the next day while everyone gears up and boards the three ships. Sam and Thor are on his team, and they sit with Steve during the flight and talk about nothing in an attempt to distract him. He appreciates the effort, but it doesn’t work. He’s working the skin between his thumb and index finger, and his right leg keeps bouncing. Gods, he just wants it to be over already.

They reach atmo without incident and land at the proper location, filing out of the plane silently to move to their rendezvous point. Everyone is focussed and professional, and Steve feels a little out of place among them. He’s been Voyaging for years now, but that’s still a drop in the bucket compared to how long the others have. He’s had plenty of combat training by now, but he’s never actually had to fight other people before. He hopes his nerve holds.

All three teams make it to the rendezvous point without incident, so they hunker down and wait for cover of night. Steve recognizes the smell of this planet; the salt of the sea, the flowers, the sun-kissed rocks and soil. It would be lovely under any other circumstance, but it makes his stomach turn, makes his bones ache in sympathetic remembered pain. He presses his molars together to keep from retching, breathing deeply through his nose until the scent of the air doesn’t make him nauseated.

He closes his eyes once his stomach settles, takes a few full, deep breaths through his mouth, and that’s when he knows: Bucky’s here. He can feel it. He knows it in the marrow of his bones, in the sinew of his muscle. He makes his way to Fury and leans close to whisper, “Bucky’s here. Premonition.”

Fury nods when Steve pulls back, and he starts making the rounds to let the rest of the team know.

It’s a tense few hours, but night eventually falls and the moons rise, their light just bright enough to make out rough shapes but not too bright that they’ll be easy to see. Two hours after nightfall. Clint whistles out the code pattern and approaches the group, and Steve’s stomach twists up again. Gods, they’re really doing this. He stands up, light on his feet despite his nerves, and lets the weight of the shield on his back soothe him.

They’re quiet and efficient as they make their way to the temple, every step bringing him closer to Bucky. They pause a couple hundred meters from the temple, and Clint goes ahead to make sure Natasha is in place to open the doors. They check that their comms are working, and then Clint is back, and it’s time to move. 

Once they reach the temple, the plan is to split into their separate groups again and work through the myriad of hallways in the dormitory wing, stunning or otherwise incapacitating as many cultists as they can before they’re detected. Steve is in the lead of his group, shield up, when they force their way into the first bedroom.

It’s clear. So is the second one. And the third.

“Anyone have contact?” Steve whispers into his comm. “Our first three rooms were all clear.”

“Same here,” Gamora and T’challa reply for their groups.

“Something isn’t right,” Wanda says, and Steve can feel it, too; the creeping sense of unease that’s permeating his senses.

“Regroup at the fallback position,” Fury says, “and we’ll —”

“Contact!” Carol Danvers shouts into her comm from her position as rear guard of Gamora’s group. “Very much contact!” 

The rest of Steve’s group turns to make their way back to Carol’s position when Steve has a Premonition: there’s a group of cultists waiting to ambush them as they move toward Danvers’s group. “Wait!” he shouts, but it’s too late. He swings his shield around and bashes the lead cultist in the face as they launch their attack. “Contact!” he shouts, and hears it echoed from the other two groups.

“Permission to treat as hostile!” Fury’s voice crackles in Steve’s ear, and Steve hears Loki chuckle darkly as a dagger zips by Steve’s head and embeds itself into the cultist rushing him. Thor whoops and throws his hammer, and Steve lets his Sight flow through him as he fights.

They fight off the initial assault and break out of the narrower hallways of the dormitory wing and into the wider hallways of the main temple complex, but no matter how many cultists they drop, more seem to take their place. After a few minutes of heavy fighting, Steve notices the cultists aren’t trying to hurt them as much as they’re trying to herd them somewhere.

He puts his hand to his ear and talks into his comm. “They’re trying to lead us somewhere, not hurt us, at least not yet.”

“Probably that large central room with the beast,” the Iron Man robot answers, which is a surprisingly astute observation from a robot. Also, its voice sounds incredibly familiar.

“We need to not end up there,” Gamora chimes in, and Steve agrees.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, at this point. There’s too many of them!” Rocket grouses, and Groot “groots” his assent.

“Take out as many of these assholes as you can and regroup in the central room,” Fury says, as another wave of cultists swarms into the hallway behind Steve’s group. Steve’s not really worried about the fighting for the moment: he’s with the Asgardian contingency of Thor, Loki, and Valkyrie, and they are overwhelmingly powerful. He’s growing more concerned about what the cultists are leading them to, however, if they consider these kinds of losses worth it.

They’re forced around a corner, through a massive set of reinforced wooden doors, and into a dark, cavernous room. This has to be the place the cultists have been leading them to, then. Steve’s suspicions are confirmed when the door slam shut behind them and won’t budge when Thor tries to break them down.

“We’ve reached the central room,” Steve tries to warn everyone else, but his comms are silent. He peers through the gloomy darkness of the room and tries to locate his teammates. “Anyone’s comms working?” He receives all “nos” in reply and curses under his breath. Two more sets of doors slam shut nearby, and Steve hears various cursing from the other groups.

“Can anyone give us some light?” Okoye calls out, and Steve sees green wisps shoot out of Loki’s hands, swirling around the room, joined by tiny yellow dots of light that Groot’s sending into the room. It would be beautiful in any other situation, but in this one it’s at least helpful so everyone can get their bearings and take stock of the situation.

The room they’re in is massive, at least 50 feet tall, with a domed roof and giant stone pillars scattered around the room. At one end is a massive dais with a white stone altar, dotted with rust-colored stains. Steve’s stomach churns when he realizes what the stains are from, swallowing down the saliva that pools in his mouth.  _ Keep it together,  _ he hisses to himself.

The room is empty and stifling, the anticipation thick in the air. They all know why they’ve been brought here, and even though Steve knows the battle ahead is going to be fierce, he’d like to fucking get on with it already.

Of course as soon as he thinks that, the altar area explodes in a blinding ball of white light. Steve closes his eyes and raises his shield to protect his face, and when he blinks his vision clear, the room is lit with floating balls of light, and the beast is standing on the dais, flanked by two people: one is an older man in draped white robes, his once-blond hair graying. He’s holding a smooth, white staff, and he looks smug and dignified and utterly unconcerned by the massive beast next to him. On the other side is a humanoid figure in long black robes, the hood pulled up to obscure their face. Steve feels a shiver run up his spine and squints to get a better look, but his attention turns to the man on the left when he starts speaking.

“Behold, the great Hydra! Look upon its majesty and despair! I am Al Exander, leader of the Hydra’s forces, and together we will rule the universe! I am —”

“A massive pain in my ass!” Fury shouts, lifting his weapon and squeezing off a few shots in Al Exander’s direction. The beast — a hydra, apparently, and that’s some very unoriginal theming, Steve thinks — holds out one of its legs and blocks Fury’s shots. It growls, the rumbling echo of it reverberating around the room.

Al Exander smirks and raises his staff, thrusting it to the ground, shouting “Hail Hydra” when the staff slams against the floor. At the signal, the doors all around the room fly open, and cultists stream in, shouting “Hail Hydra” in reply.

The cultists are definitely trying to hurt them now, and Steve finds himself almost overwhelmed. He barely fights off the first two attackers, but he anticipates the third one’s attack and smashes them in the head with his shield. He silently thanks his battle premonitions and throws himself into the fray.

The fighting is fierce. Steve cuts a swath through the cultists and sees the Asgardians and some others taking on the hydra itself. The beast is massive and terrifying, but they manage to cut off one of its heads.The battle slows as everyone stops to watch. The beast shrieks and roars, groaning as the sound of bones popping and flesh stretching echo throughout the room.

Steve watches, a growing sense of dread blooming in his chest, as the hydra’s missing head regrows as two.

Al Exander laughs, a horrible knowing thing, and shouts, “cut off one head and two more grow back in its place!” The cultists take up the chant as they start fighting again, and Steve rolls his eyes at them because fuck if that’s not extremely goddamn annoying.

Steve throws himself into the fray again, the metallic pang of blood thick in his nostrils, and he cuts down cultist after cultist. There’s a lull in the fighting around him, so he looks up and tries to take stock of the battle. He’s trying to assess where he’ll be the most useful when he feels eyes on the back of his head. He turns around, and there’s a man standing still 15 feet behind him. His hair is long and brown, and he’s wearing black, strappy leather all over his body except for his left arm; that’s metal plates, whirring and shifting as the man clenches and unclenches his fist, a red star bright on his shoulder. He’s wearing a mask on the lower half of his face, and goggles over that, and gods, he looks exactly like he did in Steve’s sight dream. He was hoping that was exaggerated somehow, or a metaphor, because this...this is  _ awful. _

Steve straightens up and takes a few breaths before trying a tentative “Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man replies, slightly distorted by the mask. Steve’s heart flips over in his chest, and he opens his mouth to respond, barely bringing up his shield in time to block the knife Bucky throws at his head. Fuck, Steve didn’t even see him _ move. _

“It’s me. It’s Steve.”

“I don’t know any Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve’s limbs all feel like metal, heavy and brittle and useless. “Bucky,” he pleads, and Bucky springs into action before the word has even finished leaving Steve’s mouth. He’s fast, precise and brutal with his attacks, and he hits Steve in the face once, then aims a kick to his ribs. Steve’s fight premonitions kick in after that — and Steve, never a religious man, sends a silent thank you into the ether — and he’s able to anticipate Bucky’s every move and fight him to a draw.

Bucky growls in anger and pulls knife after knife, and Steve blocks them all and bashes them out of Bucky’s hands with his shield. Bucky roars when he realizes he’s run out of knives and charges Steve, who uses his momentum to flip Bucky over his shoulder by the face. His mask and goggles come loose and clatter to the floor. 

Bucky turns around, tipping his head down and glaring at Steve.

“Bucky, you know me! You’ve known me your whole life!”

“No, I don’t!” he roars, charging in again. He’s furious and wild with it, and Steve doesn’t manage to block every strike Bucky makes against him, but he gives as good as he gets. They fight for what feels like forever, bones crunching, skin splitting and bleeding. Steve throws Bucky off him once again and stands in front of him, panting and dripping blood. He drops his shield to the ground.

“I’m not going to fight you anymore. You’re my best friend.”

“Shut up!” Bucky roars, his eyes uncertain.

“That and more, Bucky. You were my  _ everything. _ I loved you. I still do. I never stopped loving you.”

Bucky roars again and tackles Steve to the ground, pinning him down by straddling him at the waist. He pulls his arm back and throws a punch, then another, and another. Steve feels the bones in his face splinter, and one eye starts to swell shut. He tastes blood. He knows he should be scared; this Bucky doesn’t care who Steve is, and he’s probably going to kill him if Steve doesn’t fight back.

But. It’s Bucky. Steve doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. He’s been fighting his whole life, it feels like, and there’s just no fight left in him.

He looks up at Bucky in between blows, refamiliarizing himself with the color of Bucky’s eyes, the turn of his lips, the swell of his cheekbones. His face is fuller yet more defined, the beautiful layer of baby fat burned away in the years they’ve been apart. He’s heavier above Steve, full of muscle and metal. 

Steve’s vision goes a little blurry after another punch, and he’s dizzy and can’t focus. A memory pops into his head of all the times he laid in bed under Bucky and told himself he could happily die in that position, pinned down by Bucky’s body, near him, inside him, warm and comforted and so, so loved. Laughter bubbles past his lips, and Bucky pauses, arm raised. Steve laughs again, and then again, and he can’t stop now, the absurdity of the situation making him giddy.

Bucky looks down on him, face pinched in confusion, and Steve can see the moment his focus shifts from Steve’s face to something about a foot away from his right shoulder. He tries to turn his head to see what Bucky’s looking at, but the motion sends a spike of pain zipping through his head. He groans and closes his eyes until the pain subsides. 

When he opens them again, Bucky is looking back and forth between Steve and whatever else he’s looking at, slate eyes wide with panic and fear. “Buck,” Steve chokes out, reaching his hand up and clasping Bucky’s calf. Bucky startles a bit, swallowing heavily, and he lowers his arm, reaching out for the mystery object instead.

The brassy metal is dull against the shiny silver of Bucky’s hand, and Steve watches Bucky’s face as his shaking flesh hand traces the outline of the compass lid. It must have fallen out of his belt pouch. Bucky opens it, gasping at the portrait miniature he finds inside. He stares at it, mouth gaping, and looks at Steve, lying bloody below him, then back at the compass. He looks back and forth a few times before whispering in a tentative voice, “Steve?”

Steve nods, groaning when the pain washes through his head again. “Yeah, Buck, it’s me.” 

Bucky scrambles off him, landing hard on his ass. He looks around the room, taking in the cultists and the Hydra, the Initiative fighters. There are a few small fires around the room, the smell of blood and fear and ozone heavy in the air.

Bucky whimpers and looks back at Steve, a sob escaping his lips when he sees the wreck of Steve’s face. “Gods, Steve,” he chokes out. “What have I done?”

“Hey,” Steve says, sitting up. Which,  _ oh, _ what a mistake that was. The room immediately starts spinning, and saliva pools in his mouth as his stomach lurches, and yeah, this is happening. He manages to lean over before he wretches at least, the bile burning his throat. He spits a few times and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

Bucky is suddenly right next to him, shoving his hands under Steve’s armpits and dragging him over to the nearest column. “Other side,” Steve says groggily, and Bucky looks around to try and figure out what Steve means. “So I c’n see,” Steve slurs. Bucky drags him around to the other side of the column where Steve has a visual on the entire room.

Bucky brushes Steve’s hair off his forehead like he used to do whenever Steve needed a haircut, then traces the split skin on his face. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers.

Steve shakes his head, which only hurts a normal amount now. Hey, progress. “Go,” he says. “Help us defeat the Hydra. Get Al Exander. Stop all this. We c’n do it, Bucky.  _ You  _ c’n do it. I heal fast, y’know. I’ll be right behind you.”

Bucky snorts. “Not  _ that _ fast, surely.” Bucky pauses to watch some of Steve’s team fighting the Hydra. It’s got six heads now, up from the original three, and Steve blinks to make sure it’s not just that his vision is doubled. Nope. Six heads.

“They need to cauterize the neck stump,” Bucky says. “Steve, tell them that.”

“Can’t. Comms are down.”

“Since when?”

“Since we entered the room.”

Bucky grunts. “I can fix that. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

Steve snorts. Like he’s going anywhere at the moment.

Bucky rushes out of the room, and a few minutes later, Steve’s comms crackle back to life. 

“What just happened?” Steve hears someone ask, and he answers, “Bucky. I found him. He didn’t know me, wasn’t himself, and we fought, but now he does, and he’s helping us. He just fixed the comms. Oh, and he says we need to cauterize the Hydra’s neck stumps after we cut off the head.”

“With...fire?” someone asks. Loki, he thinks. Bucky comes back into the room then and makes a beeline for Steve.

“Oh, Bucky’s back. Here, you talk to him.” Steve pulls his comm out of his ear and hands it over to Bucky.

“Uhh,” he says helpfully.

“Tell them how to defeat the Hydra,” Steve asks.

“Oh, sure.” Bucky puts the comm into his ear and starts talking. “You need to cut off the heads and cauterize the neck stumps. Fire’s best, but anything hot enough to char the flesh so it can’t regenerate.”

Someone must ask something on the comm, and Bucky frowns a little. “Yeah, lightning should work,” he says.

Steve can hear Thor’s whoop of joy from across the room, and he lifts his hammer, sending lighting crackling around the ceiling. The beast roars at him and snaps at the lightning, and Steve can feel the tide of the battle turning.

He blinks at Bucky, who’s leaning close and pressing a projectile weapon into one of Steve’s hands, his shield into the other. He kisses Steve’s forehead, and Steve sighs, warmth spreading through his body at the feel of Bucky’s lips on his skin.

“I have to go fight now, Steve, I have to help.”

“I know. Go. I’ll be safe”

“You’d better be.” Bucky traces his thumb across the thin skin under Steve’s eye, the tiny wrinkles at the edge, nodding as he stands up and rushes into the fray.

Steve slumps down the column a bit and watches the battle. Once they know how to take on the Hydra, it falls surprisingly quickly. Dr. Strange sends these magical yellow discs through the neck, and Thor chars the neck stump with his lightning, and that’s that. The cultists start panicking after the Hydra loses its fourth head, and Steve can hear Al Exander screaming at them to fight harder. 

When the sixth head hits the ground, this strange whoosh speeds through the room, like a shockwave. The cultists all stop fighting, and Steve can see them shaking their heads and looking around in confusion. Like a spell has been broken.

Al Exander is shrieking and shouting and trying to fight still, but Carol and Okoye get him under control quickly once the Hydra falls. Steve watches as the rest of the team starts rounding up the cultists, who have dropped their weapons and are going willingly, most of them asking questions about where they are and what happened.

Natasha is answering as many questions as she can, since she knows the most about what’s been happening here. Steve’s impressed that she somehow avoided being brainwashed like the rest of the cultists and Bucky were, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. She had advanced knowledge of the cult and was able to prepare. 

Al Exander is still shrieking, and Steve can see Loki roll his eyes all the way across the room. He chuckles, sliding down the column a bit more. Now that he doesn’t have the battle to focus on, he feels the pain of his injuries more. And he’s exhausted. Healing always makes him tired, his cells urging him to rest while they repair themselves in his sleep.

“Hey, you okay over here? You don’t look so good,” Rocket says from somewhere in front of Steve. It takes him a minute to remember that he knows this talking raccoon and his giant tree friend. Maybe he’s a little more injured than he previously thought. He hums, trying to sound fine, but even he can hear how unconvincing the sound is. 

“I found Rogers. We’re gonna need some help over here,” Rocket says into his comm.

“I am Groot?” the tree asks.

“I hope so, pal,” Rocket replies, before he goes all fuzzy.

When Steve opens his eyes again, he’s being carried by four blurry faces. He hears an agonized scream from a room down the hallway — oh, hey, they’re in a hallway. 

There are all sorts of tubes in his arms when he wakes up again, and some monitors beeping steadily. He’s in the med bay of one of the ships they used to fly to H’ae D’rah — T’challa’s, he thinks. It’s a really nice medical bay, though, all sterile whites and shiny metal. It smells way better than the hospitals ever did back on Terra IV, too. He feels better. Not healed — that won’t happen for a few days yet — but better than he did in the temple. Hid head isn’t threatening to split open, and his stomach isn’t roiling. His vision is clear. Could have been a lot worse.

There’s a soft whimper to his right, and Steve looks over to find a woman with blue skin on the bed next to him. Her head is shaved, part of her face is covered in metal, as is her arm. Or. No, her arm  _ is _ metal. Like Bucky’s. Steve swallows hard, looking up when someone clears their throat. Gamora is sitting in a large cushioned armchair in the corner by the other woman’s bed.

“Is that…” Steve trails off. 

Gamora stands up, nodding as she walks over to the bed and runs her hand over the other woman’s head. “Nebula. Yes, it is her,” Gamora confirms.

“Oh, gods. Gamora, I’m so sorry. Is she going to recover?”

Gamora nods again. “She’s a fighter. It’s going to take some time for her to adjust to all of these...enhancements, Al Exander called them. But she’ll get there.”

“Enhancements...what happened?”

“Al Exander says the Hydra was trying to repeat what happened with you, when Bucky sacrificed his arm to save your life.” She strokes Nebula’s head again and looks over at Steve. “They were trying to create their own army of Gifted. It didn’t work, though. Nothing they tried worked. Bucky thinks maybe the Voyager flesh had to be given willingly, not stolen, and that’s why it didn’t work with Nebula.”

Steve feels sick with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Thank you. But it’s not your fault. It’s not Bucky’s, either, though I’m sure he’ll tell you differently. The Hydra was powerful, and warped people’s minds. It’s the one at fault. And Al Exander. He truly believed.” She falls silent for a while, and Steve waits for her to continue. “At any rate, Natasha, Fury, Nakia, Bucky, and Stark are going through the data they found after sweeping the temple. We’ll debrief when we return to Alsoten-Ra, and I’m sure we’ll learn much more then.”

“Stark. Like Tony Stark?”

“Yes.”

“He’s here?”

Gamora tilts her head and looks at him. “He’s Iron Man. That’s not a robot, it’s a mechanical suit he wears.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No.”

“Holy shit.”

“You didn’t know that?”

“No one ever told me!”

“It’s his voice when he talks.”

“I thought he programmed it that way!”

Gamora nods in understanding. “He is egotistic enough to do that.”

“Exactly!” Steve yawns, his mouth stretching wide enough that his jaw cracks. Gamora smiles and sits back down in her armchair.

“Get some rest,” she says. “Everything is under control here.” So Steve does.

~~~

It’s dark when he wakes again, and there’s a weight across his legs. Steve looks down and can just make out Bucky, sitting in a chair next to Steve’s bed, top half draped across him. Steve smiles and reaches down, gently carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It’s soft like this, softer than he remembers it being. It’s nice. He tangles his fist in Bucky’s hair and falls back asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

People drift in and out over the next few days, Sam, Thor, and Bucky more so than the others. Nebula was conscious the second day and left the med bay to go help the rest of the team. By the time the team has cleared the temple and sorted through everything they’ve found, Steve is itchy and restless. It always itches when his skin and muscle knit themselves back together, and these are the worst injuries he’s received since becoming a Voyager, so it’s the first time it’s been this bad. He wants to hit something or spar with someone, or maybe fuck. For a second, he wonders if Bucky… No.  _ No, shut that down right now, Steven. _ Bucky has been through a terrible ordeal, and he might not even want…

The idea that Bucky might not want him anymore after this makes Steve panic. He can’t catch his breath, and his heart is pounding in his chest. Apparently he’s still hooked up to some sort of monitor because it starts beeping wildly. Shuri rushes into the room with a panicked “Steve? What happened?”

There’s no way in hell he’s about to tell her he worked himself up over Bucky’s right to choose his own romantic partner, even if they do have an incredible amount of history together. So he grits out a “nightmare” as an answer. Which, truthfully, isn’t that far off the mark. Bucky telling Steve he doesn’t want him anymore absolutely is a nightmare scenario.

“Breathe with me, Steve, that’s it.” Shuri flips off the monitor and takes some calming breaths in, then out, and Steve does his best to mirror her.

He feels better once he gets some oxygen in him, and he thanks Shuri for her help. 

“Of course,” she says. “We should be leaving later on today. If you feel up for it, you can take a short walk around. I’m sure you’re feeling a little stir crazy by now.”

“Thanks. I will.”

~~~

He does. He’s greeted warmly by the rest of the team, slapped on the back a few more times than he feels is strictly necessary, but they defeated a major threat and won the day. Everyone is happy. Steve can’t really hold their exuberance against them.

He is, however, beyond ready to be home. He wants to sleep in his own bed, hopefully with Bucky under the same roof, if not in the same bed. He’s not going to pressure Bucky into anything, but he’s definitely going to let him know that his feelings for Bucky haven’t changed. That he’ll take him however he can have him, whether that’s just a friend or something more. Anything Bucky wants to give him. There hasn’t been a good time to talk to him yet; between Steve’s healing and sleep schedule and Bucky working to help clear the temple, they haven’t had much time to themselves just the two of them. But when they get back… well, Steve’s been running possible speeches through his head, seeing what sounds the best. And maybe in these scenarios, all of Bucky’s reactions are favorable, but he’s optimistic about his chances. Nothing wrong with that.

Shuri was right. The team is done clearing out the temple in the early afternoon. Fury gathers them all a few hundred meters away from the complex and addresses the team. 

“This was incredible work, everyone. You should be extremely proud of yourselves. I know I am. Now the next phase begins. It’s going to take us about a month to go through everything we’ve collected here. So keep yourselves open to returning to Alsoten-Ra one month from today. At that time, I will brief everyone about what we found in the data, and what the next steps are. There are still Hydra cells out there, and eradicating them will be phase 2. Go get some rest, people, especially you, Rogers, Barnes, and Nebula. Stay on-world if you can stand it, and if you can’t, take a partner. Okay, that’s it. Let’s burn this place to the ground.”

Al Exander is the only one upset to lose the temple. He stands and watches the complex burn, back straight, shoulders set and proud. His face is stoic, but there are tears running down his cheeks. Steve watches him and would almost feel bad if it weren’t for the kidnapping and brainwashing and torture and desire to rule the universe, bending all others to his will. He does wonder if Al Exander found the Hydra or the Hydra found him. Maybe Fury will be able to get to the bottom of that puzzle.

Bucky turns from where he’s been watching the flames lick over the stone of the temple, searching the group for someone. He smiles when he sees Steve and gives the tiniest wave as he starts walking over. Steve’s stomach swoops and flutters as Bucky gets nearer, which is ridiculous. He’s a grown man not some love-sick teenager, and anyway, he’s not even sure Bucky wants him like that anymore. It’s been so long since they were together, and Bucky’s been through so much, and Steve’s body is completely different now. Bucky doesn’t owe him anything, and yeah, it will hurt like hell if he doesn’t want him anymore, but it won’t change the fact that they’re best friends before anything else. 

All of that is true, but it doesn’t stop Steve from smiling the dopiest smile as Bucky draws near.  _ Gods, Rogers, get it together, _ he admonishes himself. Thankfully, Bucky either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He bumps Steve’s shoulder on purpose when he stands next to Steve, turning to watch the temple burn once again. “Asshole,” Steve huffs fondly, and he can see Bucky smile though he doesn’t turn his face.

They watch in silence a little longer. Steve forces himself not to startle when he feels the brush of Bucky’s fingers on his hand. Bucky clasps Steve’s hand in his own, and Steve threads his fingers between Bucky’s. The temple burns bright, but not nearly as bright as the ember of hope Steve holds in his heart.

~~~

Fury rides on their ship on the way home, drawing Bucky aside to speak with him. Steve can see them across the room, but he can’t hear what they’re saying. He frowns when Bucky looks down at the floor, shame written on his face clear as day. Steve’s about to stand up and go over when Fury claps Bucky on the shoulder and says something that makes Bucky sigh and look up with a smile. Steve settles back, but he’s still not happy about it. Bucky looks over at Steve quickly before looking back at Fury and shaking his head. Fury says something back, and Bucky nods, agreeing to whatever Fury said. He sees Bucky roll his eyes and smile a little, so he relaxes a bit in his seat. If Bucky’s smiling, the conversation couldn’t have been _ that _ bad. 

Steve watches them finish talking, perking up since it means Bucky will be coming over to Steve now. Except he doesn’t. He goes to Thor, who’s playing some sort of portable game thing. Steve still can’t hear what Bucky is saying, but he can make out the name “Loki” on his lips. Thor twists around and points to one of the doorways leading away from the room they’re in, and Bucky starts walking out that way.

Steve frowns and crosses his arms over his chest and definitely doesn’t pout. Or feel upset. Natasha sits down next to him, one perfectly arched brow making a break for her hairline. Steve rolls his eyes and huffs at her. “I know,” he grouses.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“He’s allowed to —”

“I said I  _ know _ , Natasha,” Steve hisses at her.

She puts her hands up and sits back in her seat. She’s silent for a while, which just makes Steve feel more and more tense. 

“I just...it’s been ten years since I’ve seen him, not counting the day I almost died and he saved me. He was all I had for so long, and now he’s here again, and I can’t help but…” Steve sighs and trails off, not wanting to burden her further with the complicated mess of his emotions.

Natasha waits for him to continue, and when it’s clear he’s not going to, she reaches over and pats him on the leg. “How are you feeling? Healing okay?” she asks, and Steve blinks at the subject change.

“Not too bad. I’ll probably be fully healed in about a week or so. My face is a little itchy still.”

She nods and pats his leg again. “Be patient, okay? He’s been through a lot. And you have, too. It might take some time for you two to adjust to each other, and I don’t want either of you to get your hearts broken.”

Steve softens and bumps into her with his shoulder. She smiles but doesn’t look at him. “Good work in the temple, infiltrating it like that. Can’t have been easy.”

That earns him a smile that reaches her eyes. “Thanks, Rogers,” she says, turning to look at him. “You didn’t do such a bad job yourself.”

He snorts, and she pats his leg once more before getting up to go do whatever it is she does, now in another part of the ship.

Bucky isn’t back by the time the ship reaches Alsoten-Ra’s atmo, and Steve’s starting to get a little nervous. He’d hoped that he and Bucky would have talked a little bit about what was going to happen now that they were going home, and that Steve could have told Bucky he was welcome at his house, if he wanted to stay there for a little while or forever. Maybe forever isn’t the one to lead with, though. But no such luck. Bucky isn’t anywhere to be found as Steve gathers his things and disembarks from the ship. 

And yeah, Bucky had held his hand a bit while they watched the temple burn, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe Bucky was just trying to be comforting. Or maybe he needed comfort himself; as horrible as that place was, as badly as he’d been treated, it was still home for ten years of his life. He probably had a myriad of emotions swirling through him as he watched the temple burn. Of course he would want someone familiar near him while he went through that. 

Steve takes the long way home, sitting in the tram car, watching the scenery fly by as he thinks about what he should do next. Probably let Bucky come to him, if he wants. Or maybe give him some time, and if he hasn’t made contact with Steve in a couple of days, Steve can head over to his apartment, see if they can talk. He feels buoyed by this plan, the disappointment not as sharp in his belly. Sure, it sucks that he won’t see Bucky for a few days, but he’s still healing and will need to sleep a lot while he does, so he’s just going to crash on the couch and watch his screens. That’s pretty boring, really. No need for Bucky to be around for that.

Steve’s so in his own head that he doesn’t even realize there’s someone sitting on his front porch until he steps onto it. And suddenly, Bucky is there, standing right in front of Steve, a shy smile on his face. Steve drops his bag and throws his arms around Bucky, tucking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder as he pulls him close. Bucky grunts a bit before huffing out a laugh, lifting his arms to hug Steve back. 

“Hey, Stevie,” he whispers, and that’s it, that’s all it takes for Steve to start sobbing on Bucky’s shoulder. “Shh, shh,” Bucky soothes, running his hand up and down Steve’s back. “I’m here now. I’m here.”

“I missed you so much, Buck,” Steve says wetly into Bucky’s neck, drawing a little wounded noise out of him. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault.”

“Yeah, well.” He pauses and sighs. “I’m still sorry.”

Steve pulls away from Bucky’s neck, leaning in to kiss Bucky on the nose. Bucky chuckles, scrunching up his nose in the most endearing way. Steve feels his heart flop over in his chest, and his eyes start burning, so he blinks a few times to keep the tears from starting up again. He’s just so happy that Bucky is  _ here  _ with him. It feels right.

“Thank you,” he says wetly. “For being here. It means...it means a lot.”

Bucky pulls away and brushes the back of his fingers across Steve’s cheek. “Of course, Steve.” He steps back and bends down to pick up a bag sitting on the porch that Steve hadn’t noticed before. “Come on, let’s go inside. I need a shower and a nap. Probably in that order, but I make no promises.”

Steve chuckles and unlocks his front door, heading inside. Bucky follows, setting his bag down in the entryway and pausing as he looks around. He furrows his brow a little as he takes everything in, but smiles when he notices Steve looking at him. 

“It’s nice,” Bucky says. “Suits you.”

Steve snorts. “Want to see the rest of it before you pass that judgement?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sure, show me around.”

He gives Bucky the grand tour, pausing in front of the guest room. “There’s a room here for you, if you want it. But…” Steve takes a deep breath and decides to just go for it. “But you’re welcome in my room with me, if you want. We don’t even have to do anything, I just. Want you near me, you know? And it’s fine if you don’t want that, okay? I don’t want to pressure you. I just want you to know how I feel.”

“That sounds nice,” Bucky says. “And I do want. To do stuff. With you.”

Steve laughs nervously. “Gods, we sound like a couple of teenagers who giggle when they hear the word ‘sex.’”

Bucky huffs and shakes his head at himself. “Not yet, though, okay? I need a couple of days. A week, tops. I just —”

“Hey,” Steve says gently, stepping in front of Bucky and cupping his face with a hand. “Whatever you want. Whenever you want. Okay? I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. No matter what. Take all the time you need.”

Bucky closes his eyes and nods his head. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Steve traces Bucky’s cheek with his thumb before lowering his hand back to his side. “Go shower. There are towels in the cabinet in the bathroom. I’m going to lay down. I’m beat. Join me when you’re done, if you want.”

“I will.”

Steve heads to his room, pulling off his clothes and tossing them in his hamper in the closet. He pulls on a pair of sleep pants and slides under the covers. They’re cool, too cool, so he asks the house A.I. to turn up the heat a few degrees now that he’s back. While he’s at it, he gives Bucky permissions with the A.I. so he can make adjustments around the house, add things to their shopping lists. Whatever he wants that the A.I. can do.

Steve pulls the covers up to his chin and sighs happily. He tries to stay awake for when Bucky joins him in bed, but between the day of travel and his body’s continued healing, he finds it impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s dark outside when Steve wakes again, a warm, solid weight at his back. Bucky’s curled up behind him, his arm around Steve’s waist, holding him tight while he sleeps. Steve carefully lifts Bucky’s arm and slides out from under it so he can use the restroom. Bucky’s rolled onto his back, snoring lightly, when Steve comes back into the room. His mouth is open, and Steve can see a little drool trailing down the side of his chin. He’s the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen.

He takes a minute just to drink Bucky in, laying in Steve’s bed, limned in moonlight. He’s still everything Steve has ever wanted. Gods, he can’t believe Bucky is finally here with him. It doesn’t feel real yet, and Steve feels a spike of panic when he thinks maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s dreaming this. 

He crawls back into bed so he can prove himself wrong, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist and pillowing his head on Bucky’s chest, like they used to do when Bucky wasn’t as muscle-bound and Steve was smaller. He listens to the steady cadence of Bucky’s beating heart. He’s real. He’s here. He’s solid beneath Steve’s arm, and he’s not going anywhere, not tonight.

Steve falls asleep like that and doesn’t wake again until the sun is high in the sky.

~~~

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Bucky calls when Steve shuffles into the kitchen. “There’s a plate in the fridge for you. There isn’t any food in the house, so I walked down to the little sandwich place couple of streets over.” 

“There’s a sandwich place?”

“Uh, yeah. Took less than ten minutes to walk there.”

“Huh.” 

“I also met Orielle on my walk back. She seems nice.”

Steve frowns a little. “Who’s Orielle?”

Bucky stares blankly at Steve. “Seriously? She’s your next-door neighbor.”

“Oh.”

Bucky tilts his head, and Steve feels his cheeks heat under his assessing gaze. “You’ve really never met her?”

Steve shrugs, embarrassment making his chest flutter. “I guess we just sort of never ran into each other.”

Bucky hums a little bit before nodding at Steve’s sandwich, giving Steve an out of that line of conversation. Steve could kiss him. He takes a bite of his food and makes a little yummy sound. 

Bucky chuckles at him. “Eat up, okay? We’re wanted at the Initiative’s medical Mender’s office. They want to make sure you’re healing okay.”

“What about you?” Steve mumbles around a bite of sandwich.

“Huh?”

Steve swallows and tries again. “What about you? You said ‘we’”

“Oh. They want to make sure my arm isn’t causing any problems.”

Steve frowns, a twist of guilt pulling at his stomach. He never thought about that before. “Does it? Cause problems?”

Bucky shrugs. “It pinches sometimes, and it’s heavy, so even with metal reinforced bones in my shoulder and clavicle, it makes my muscles sore. I get a lot of tension headaches. Could be worse.”

Reinforced bones...gods, that must have been  _ awful. _ “Will you tell me? When you’re sore, have a headache? I can work at your muscles, give you a massage or something.”

Bucky’s face goes soft, and  _ fuck, _ Steve loves him so damn much. “I will, Steve. Thank you. Now hurry up and eat your sandwich.”

~~~

Steve’s healing fine, and the Mender runs a bunch of tests on Bucky’s arm, among other things. She and Bucky come up with a physical therapy plan, and Bucky gives her permission to talk to Tony Stark about a lighter arm. Steve’s hopeful, but Bucky shrugs and says he’s not holding his breath. They stop at a barber shop on the way home, and Steve gets his beard shaved off and his hair cut shorter, like he used to wear before he grew it out. Bucky traces a finger softly down Steve’s chin, the skin smooth beneath his fingertip. He smiles, but Steve thinks it looks a little wistful.

Steve’s exhausted by the time they get home and heads to bed again. Bucky wakes him for dinner — the deli again — and he eats and crashes, sleeping until midday. Bucky laughs at Steve’s hair when he shuffles into the kitchen, and Steve grunts and makes a rude hand gesture. Bucky laughs harder and pours him a cup of coffee, stirring in the flavored cream he pretends not to like but secretly loves.

When he’s more awake, Bucky suggests a trip to the market for groceries, and maybe a walk since it’s a lovely day outside, depending on Steve’s energy level. Steve agrees to give it a try. It is a stunning day, the sun warm but the breeze cool, and the market is buzzing with people. They get groceries for the next week, but Steve’s dead on his feet by the time they make it home.

Bucky kisses him on the forehead and shoos him off to the bedroom, promising to get the food put away. Steve makes a sleepy noise and flaps his hand at Bucky but goes anyway. He’s asleep before he can even pull the covers up.

He wakes a few hours later to laughter coming from the living room. He’s thirsty and hungry, but he stops by the living room first to see what’s going on. Thor is there, and Loki, and so are Sam and Natasha. They’re all playing some sort of board game, teasing each other and laughing. Natasha notices Steve first and raises her drink at him. 

“Steve!” she calls out, “come join us!”

“Mmm,” he grunts, shaking his head. 

“He’s still healing, Nat, give him a break,” Bucky tells her. “You want some food?” he asks Steve. 

Steve flaps his hand at Bucky and shakes his head. “I got it. You have fun with your friends.”

“ _ Our _ friends,” Bucky corrects. Steve smiles, acknowledging Bucky’s point. “Hey, we didn’t wake you up, did we?”

“No, I woke up on my own. Hungry and thirsty. Seriously, you have fun. I’m gonna eat something and go back to sleep.”

“You sure we can’t convince you to join us?” Sam cajoles.

“I’m still healing. Makes me tired. Maybe in a few days, though,” Steve replies.

“All right, we’ll hold you to that,” Sam says.

Steve makes his way to the kitchen and eats something before walking back to the group and dropping a kiss on Bucky’s head, making a rude gesture to everyone else when they “oooooooooh” at him. Bucky just laughs and grabs Steve’s hand to he can kiss the back of it before sending Steve on his way to their bedroom.

~~~

“Hey,” Bucky starts off the next morning. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, is it okay if I hang something on the walls? There was this really cool print I saw at the market when we went the other day, and I thought it would look nice in here, but I wanted to double check first.”

“Of course, Buck,” Steve tells him, a little bloom of pleasure warming his chest. “This is your home, too. I want you to feel comfortable here, to make it your own.”

“Our own,” Bucky corrects gently. “Okay, thanks. I wasn’t sure since you don’t have anything on the walls now. I thought maybe it was some artistic choice or something, I don’t know.”

Steve looks around the room. Huh. Bucky’s right, there isn’t anything hanging on the walls — no sketches, no art, no prints. Just bare space, the same color paint as when he moved in. Steve looks back at Bucky and shrugs. “Guess I never found anything I liked enough. But yeah, if you find something you like, hang it up.”

Bucky nods slowly. “Do you want to see it first?”

“Nah, I trust you.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, and leaves it at that.

~~~

Steve wakes a few days later when the sun is just creeping over the horizon. Bucky is still next to him in bed, all rumpled and sleep-warm. Steve feels more like himself than he has in a week, and he realizes it has been exactly a week since the raid on the temple. He must finally be fully healed. He stretches a little, careful not to wake Bucky up, and tries to decide whether he wants to get up and eat breakfast or crawl back into bed after going to the bathroom.

Crawling back into bed wins. Like there was ever any doubt.

He wraps himself around Bucky, reveling in the feeling of Bucky’s bare skin against his. Steve tucks his face into Bucky’s neck and inhales deeply, trying to find Bucky’s scent that he knew so well. He smells different, now. Part of that is Steve’s body wash, but part of it...Steve’s not sure why it’s different. A wave of unaccountable sadness washes over him, and he must whimper because the next thing he knows, he’s being wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, wondering when he woke up.

“What is it?” Bucky asks, voice rough with sleep but laced with concern. Steve shakes his head and presses his face harder into Bucky’s neck. “Please, Steve,” Bucky begs.

“Do I smell different to you?” he asks, voice small and muffed.

Bucky pauses before answering very carefully. “Well...yeah. You do. I figured that was because you’ve changed so much. We never got the chance to be together after you became a Voyager.”

“It doesn’t bother you? That I don’t smell the same?”

Bucky gently pulls Steve back so he can look at his face. “No, it doesn’t bother me. You’re you, and I love you, I don’t care that you smell different. Do I smell different?”

Steve nods. Hurt flashes across Bucky’s face before he can stop it.

“And that...bothers you?”

Steve grunts in frustration. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It doesn’t bother me that you smell different, it’s just...it happened somehow, and I wasn’t there. I missed so much of your life, and I...it makes me sad, is all. That I wasn’t there for you. And if  _ this _ is different, if this changed, what else has? What else have I missed?”

“Oh, honey. Oh, it’s okay. Hey.” Bucky reaches out to cup Steve’s face gently between his hands. “We can find out together, okay? You and me. We’ve both changed, we’ve both been through a lot. We can learn each other again, just like before. Okay? Tell me it’s okay, Steve, please.”

Steve closes his eyes and nods as a few tears spill down his cheeks.

“Oh, baby, no,” Bucky says, thumbing the tears away. 

Steve bites his lip to keep it from quivering, and to try and hold in the thought that’s threatening to burst out. He promised Bucky he’d give him some time, and he doesn’t want to pressure him. It’s just…

Bucky drags his thumb along Steve’s lip, working it free from his teeth. “You’re hurting yourself,” he whispers. “Just tell me,” he pleads.

“I don’t remember what you taste like!” Steve sobs, tucking his face back into Bucky’s neck. 

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky says, reaching up to card his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve breathes slowly and deeply against Bucky’s neck, trying to keep from crying again. “Baby,” Bucky coos, trailing his hand down Steve’s neck and onto his back, slowly teasing his fingers down to the waistband of Steve’s pants then back up to his shoulders. Over and over.

Steve shivers, and Bucky can feel it, so he asks, “are you fully healed now?”

Steve nods into Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, I think so. I feel better this morning than I have in a week. Think I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Bucky says, rolling so he’s on top of Steve, who yelps at the sudden position change. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for days now, map out all this muscle with my tongue, but I didn’t want to get in the way of you healing.”

Arousal pools low in Steve’s belly, sharp and insistent. He rolls his hips a little, just enough to get some friction on his rapidly filling cock. 

“You want that, Steve?” Bucky says as he rolls his hips in return. Steve moans out what he hopes is a yes. “Want to see if I taste the same?”

Steve surges up and presses their mouths together, firm and needy. Bucky’s lips are as soft as ever, and Steve licks along the seam, wanting to get his tongue in Bucky’s mouth. Bucky opens for him, and Steve moans at the first press inside. They kiss and kiss, breathless with it, and gods, Steve could do this forever and would if he didn’t need  _ more. _

He rolls back on top of Bucky, pulling back to straddle his waist. Bucky bucks up a little, just enough for Steve to feel the hot line of his erection against his own. He moans and grinds down, slow and filthy, and Bucky shudders beneath him. 

“You do,” Steve tells him, leaning down to kiss him again because he can’t help but kiss those red, red lips. “You taste the same, at least here. But I need to get my mouth on a few more places before I can say for sure.” 

Bucky curses, and Steve smirks at him, leaning down to kiss his mouth again, before moving down to his neck, his clavicle, his nipple. Bucky gasps at that, so Steve stays there and worries first one then the other nipple with his teeth until Bucky is squirming under Steve, grunting and moaning.

Fuck, but Steve missed the little noises Bucky makes during sex. He’s so vocal, whether he’s talking or just letting out the most delicious sounds, and Steve wants to hear him come apart. He mouths his way down Bucky’s stomach, tracing each abdominal muscle with his fingers and his tongue, loving the way Bucky twitches and gasps. Licking into Bucky’s belly button earns him a startled laugh and a fond “asshole,” to which Steve hums and responds, “yeah, that’s on my list.”

Bucky groans and thrusts his hips, and Steve lets Bucky push himself up into Steve’s teeth, nibbling down on Bucky’s iliac crest. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Bucky’s sleep pants and pulls them down, working them around the hard length of Bucky’s cock. Steve flings the pants away from the bed and looks down at Bucky, breathless and needy, his cock hard and red, curving slightly to the left, precome beading at the tip. Steve feels a rush of saliva in his mouth, and he wants, wants to take Bucky’s cock into his mouth and feel the hot length of it, taste the bitter salt on his tongue. 

But first he wants to make sure. “I want to suck you, Bucky. Can I?” 

Bucky groans, his hips jerking at Steve’s words. “Fuck, yes, Steve, please. Anything, just — “ 

Bucky moans as Steve leans down and laps at the head of his cock, pressing open-mouth kisses to the shaft. He works the shaft all the way around, getting it nice and wet, and Bucky is leaking furiously now. Steve moans at the taste and laps it up before taking Bucky’s cock into his mouth.

Bucky grunts, a punched-out sound, and it’s been years since Steve has done this, but he finds his rhythm quickly, working Bucky over just the way he used to like best. Bucky is huffing and moaning as Steve works up and down on Bucky’s cock, sucking hard as he pulls back, only to push down and take Bucky into his throat.

Bucky’s grunting and praising Steve, telling him how good his mouth feels, how he was born to suck cock, all manner of filthy things, and Steve moans and sticks his hand down his own pants, wrapping his hand around his own aching cock and thrusting into it.

Bucky thrusts up a little, pushing his cock further down Steve’s throat, and Steve moans at the feeling, working his own cock harder. He can feel Bucky starting to tense up like he does when he’s close, so he moans again and sucks harder.

“I’m close,” Bucky warns, and Steve hums, pulling off Bucky’s cock. Bucky whimpers and thrusts his hips up, chasing Steve’s mouth. 

“You want to come in my mouth?” he asks Bucky, who shakes his head. 

“On your dick. Please, I want to come with you inside me,” he pants, and Steve has to squeeze the base of his own dick to keep himself from coming at Bucky’s words.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Steve says, voice rough and raw. “You want to come on my dick, Bucky?”

“Yeah, fuck,” Bucky groans. “I want that. Give it to me, Steve, come on.”

Steve licks a stripe up the underside of Bucky’s cock, chuckling as he gasps. “Patience, baby. I’ll give it to you. But first I need to loosen you up. You want my tongue or my fingers, sweetheart?”

“Both. Give me both, Steve,” Bucky says breathlessly.

Steve chuckles and opens Bucky’s thighs with his shoulders, settling in between his legs. “Greedy,” he says fondly, leaning down to lap at the furl of Bucky’s hole. He starts slow, little kitten licks to get Bucky used to the sensation, then firmer, longer licks around his hole, pulling at the rim a little to start loosening it up. Bucky is moaning and gasping, writhing around so much that Steve has to grab him by the thighs and hold him in place. Which Bucky doesn’t mind one bit, if the sound he makes is anything to go by.

Steve gets his whole mouth on him, sucking and working at his hole, pointing his tongue and working it into Bucky’s body. Bucky is wet and dripping with saliva, and Steve’s face is a mess, just how he likes it. He works his tongue in as deep as he can get it, wiggling it around to open up that tight hole. Bucky is begging now, pleading with Steve to give him more, his fingers, his cock, anything, please, just more, Steve,  _ more. _

Steve gives Bucky’s hole one more lick, pulling back and sitting up on his knees. He palms his cock through his pants, watching as Bucky tracks the movement, his lust-blown eyes widening further. Bucky’s dick twitches as he watches Steve pull off his own pants, his dick bobbing up to slap wetly against his stomach. 

“ _ Cacat, _ Steve, look at you,” Bucky gasps, voice tight with arousal. 

Steve chuckles, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking it slowly a few times, up and down, working the foreskin around the head how Bucky used to like. “Oh, this?” he teases. “You want this, Buck?”

Bucky nods rapidly. “Yeah. Yeah, I want it, Steve. Give it to me.”

“Mm. I will, baby, don’t you worry. But first we need to open that hole of yours some more.”

Bucky whines, needy and lust-drunk.

“Shh, sweetheart, you’ll get what you want. Just be patient, can you do that for me? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shoves at Steve’s hip a little with his foot. “I know how to take your dick, Steve.”

Steve smiles at him and leans down to kiss him. “Yeah, you do. Just let me, okay? I want to feel you on my fingers a little.”

Bucky rolls his eyes again, grinning to show he doesn’t really mean it. “Get the lube and get going, then.”

“Bossy.” Steve smiles, leaning over to grab a tube of lube from the bedside table.

“You love it.”

Steve opens the lube and spreads it on his fingers, reaching down between Bucky’s legs to rub at his hole. Bucky gasps at the cold, wet feel of it, moaning when Steve presses his first finger in. “I do,” Steve says, leaning down to kiss Bucky’s knee. He works one finger inside Bucky a little bit, pressing a second inside when it’s clear Bucky’s ready for another. He scissors them, stretching Bucky open gently. Bucky is grunting and moaning, pushing himself down on Steve’s fingers to get them deeper. He gasps when Steve brushes his prostate, so Steve does it again.

“Another,” Bucky gasps, and Steve lubes up a third finger and works it into Bucky’s body, slower this time so he can adjust.

He’s so tight around Steve’s fingers, and so hot inside, so slippery wet. Steve squeezes the base of his cock with his other hand again to take the edge off a little bit. Bucky feels so good on his fingers, so gods-damn good, that Steve’s a little worried he’s going to shoot off as soon as he pushes his dick inside.

“Steve, please,” Bucky begs. “I’m ready.” 

Steve thinks about a condom for a moment before remembering that Voyagers can’t catch or spread anything, but Bucky might want one. “You want me to use a condom?” he asks.

“No,” Bucky says, so Steve picks up the lube and spreads some on his dick before moving back between Bucky’s legs.

“You want to flip over so it’s easier?” he asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “No, like this. I want to see you.”

Steve lines up, rubbing the head of his cock against Bucky’s hole a few times. “Stop teasing and fuck me!” Bucky hisses.

Steve starts pushing, gasping at how tight he is, the hot pressure of the initial slide into Bucky’s body like nothing else in the universe. Bucky groans and Steve pushes a little harder, the head popping past Bucky’s rim. Steve groans and stills, giving Bucky time to adjust to the feeling. 

“Move, Steve! Fuck, please, fucking  _ move _ !” 

Steve does, a long, slow roll of his hips, and they both gasp and moan at how good it feels. It’s hot and wet, and so, so tight, but more than that, it feels like coming home. Steve gasps again when he’s fully seated inside Bucky, looking up at Bucky’s face. He’s beautiful, needy and wanton, eyes screwed closed, mouth open. A tear works its way free and slides down Bucky’s face toward the pillow, and Steve pauses. 

“You good, Buck?”

“So good,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “So fucking good. Would be better if you kept moving, though.”

Steve chuckles and does just that, pulling back until he’s almost all the way out of Bucky’s body before sliding back in. He takes it easy for a few more thrusts, rolling his hips gently in and out, letting Bucky get used to being so full. He’s not sure when Bucky did this last, and he doesn’t really care, but Steve’s body wasn’t the only thing that got bigger when the Hydra remade him, and he wants this to be good for Bucky.

Bucky had stayed hard during the prep and the initial penetration, but now his dick is red and weeping. He’s blissed out and fucked out, and he hasn’t even come yet. Fuck, but it gets under Steve’s skin, how much he loves this man beneath him, how much he wants to fuck him and make him feel good, make him scream and beg and fall apart. He snaps his hips, hard, and Bucky moans loudly, and that’s it, Steve can’t hold himself back anymore.

He picks up his rhythm, fucking hard into Bucky, faster and faster. Bucky is incoherent at this point, just moaning and grunting and begging without words. Harder, he means. Faster. Steve,  _ please. _

Steve tilts his hips down a little and fucks into Bucky, and Bucky swears and writhes around, gasping “right there, Steve, fuck!” Steve repeats the motion again and again, and he feels Bucky starting to tense up, so he braces himself on one arm and wraps a hand around Bucky’s cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

Bucky howls and comes, shooting white ropes of come up his abdomen and chest, pulsing again and again. Steve fucks him through it, gasping at the feel of Bucky clenching around him. It’s so good, so  _ fucking _ good, and it only takes a few more thrusts before Steve buries himself into Bucky as far as he can and comes.

Steve groans and grinds his hips against Bucky as he works through his orgasm. Bucky’s writhing and panting below him, and Steve leans down to press a kiss to the side of his lips, staying close and slowly rolling his hips as he comes down. Bucky used to love the shaky, oversensitive feeling of Steve inside him well after he’d come, and that clearly hasn’t changed. He’s shivering slightly, gasping every time Steve glances across his prostate. Fuck, if Bucky keeps this up, it won’t be long until Steve’s ready for round two.

Steve rolls his hips one more time, and Bucky whimpers, which means he’s ready to be done. Steve pulls out slowly, then collapses next to Bucky on the bed, letting Bucky pull him half on top of himself. Steve huffs and tries to get comfortable being a human blanket while avoiding the cooling puddles of come on Bucky’s torso.

“Fuck, that was good,” Steve says, nuzzling Bucky’s jaw. He hums his agreement and soaks up Steve’s attention like a cat in the sun. Steve keeps nibbling at Bucky’s jaw, dropping little kisses in between the bites. Bucky sighs happily and pulls his head back a little bit to look at Steve. Steve pulls back, too, so he doesn’t go cross-eyed. “What?” he asks around a smile.

Bucky reaches up with his hand and traces Steve’s cheek, the bolt of his jaw, the swell of his lower lip, the bump on his nose. “I love you an unreasonable amount, Steve,” he says before pulling Steve down for a kiss, chaste and sweet.

Steve feels his smile go all dopey when Bucky breaks the kiss, and Bucky smiles in return, and now Steve definitely feels like they’re lovesick teenagers again, giddy with the strength of their feelings for each other, and not quite sure how to handle their emotions after sex. Especially good sex.

Bucky stretches a little, pulling a face as an “ugh” comes out of his mouth. “We need a shower.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “And a change of sheets. Come on, baby, come shower with me.”


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky’s up early the next morning, dressed and ready to go somewhere when Steve emerges from their bedroom. He drops a kiss to Bucky’s cheek on his way to the fridge to pull out something to eat. “Where are you heading?”

“Thought I’d head to the library today, grab some books or data cards for my reader. Maybe even pick up some shows or movie data cards.”

“The library has show and movie data cards?”

Bucky frowns and tilts his head. “Yeah, Steve, they have show and movie data cards. Haven’t you been?”

“Um...I guess not. Huh. I kept meaning to check it out, but I never got around to it.”

Bucky stares at Steve long enough that he starts to squirm under his gaze.

“What?” Steve asks, a little defensively.

Bucky shakes his head a bit, as if to break himself out of whatever he’d been thinking. “Nothing. It’s nothing. So are you coming with me or what?”

“Yeah, can I? Just wanna eat some breakfast first.”

“Sure, I’ll wait.”

The library is incredible, and Steve feels pretty stupid for never having gone before. The building itself is huge, full of glass windows and walls, perfect for letting in natural light. Steve gapes at the shelves and shelves full of books, the tables full of data cards. There are even free classes and lectures on just about any subject a person could want to learn, and Steve just about kicks himself for not coming here sooner.

Bucky gets that weird look on his face again when Steve applies for his own library card, wandering away while Steve fills out the paperwork. Once Steve gets his card, he wanders away, too, looking for Bucky but taking his time doing it, weaving in and out of stacks as things catch his eye. He sees Bucky a few stacks away, the most adorable frown on his face as he reads the back of a book. Steve stops and leans against the nearest stack to watch him. He puts the book back on the shelf and pulls down another one, frowning again as he reads the back. This time he sticks the tip of his tongue out, too, like he does sometimes when he’s really concentrating on something, and it’s so unbearably adorable that Steve has to go over and wrap him into his arms.

Bucky squawks a little when Steve does just that, slapping Steve on the arm with the book he’s holding. Steve laughs and kisses Bucky on the forehead, which makes Bucky smile his soft, little happy smile that’s just for Steve.

“Find anything good?” Steve asks him, noticing a pile of books on the floor that he assumes belong to Bucky.

“Yeah, a bunch of stuff. I think you’d like this one, though.” he says, handing the book he was holding to Steve to look at. 

“Were you trying to find something for me?” Steve asks, fondness dripping off his voice.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to go home with tons of books and for you to leave empty-handed. Because I know if that happened, every time I sat down to read at home, you’d come over and sit next to me and huff and sigh and think you were being so subtle, but you’d be so annoying that I’d be forced to pay attention to you, and then we’d end up making out on the couch for a while, or having sex or something, and I would never finish my book.”

Steve gives an exaggerated gasp and pinches Bucky’s waist, right where he’s most ticklish.

Bucky barks out a laugh, hitting Steve with another book. “Quit it, you ass! You’re going to get us kicked out! I don’t know why I put up with you,” he says around a grin.

Steve nods solemnly. “Probably because of my giant —”

Bucky puts his hand in Steve’s face and shoves.

~~~

Having Bucky in his house feels incredible. It feels right. They spend so much time together, reading, cooking, gardening, sleeping, watching screens, fucking — everything. It’s the happiest Steve has been in years. Since Bucky sacrificed his arm and Steve became a Voyager, if he really stops to think about it. Maybe even before then. Maybe he hasn’t truly been happy since Bucky left the first time.

Bucky seems happy, too, though not as outwardly as Steve. But that’s to be expected, really, with what he’s been through. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath after another nightmare. Most of the time he lets Steve hold him and talk him down, but some nights he just needs some space, so he goes into his own room and sleeps there.

Steve hates those nights. He feels powerless to help, hurting at how much pain Bucky’s in. He wishes he could take all that pain away, make it so Bucky never had to hurt again. He’s such a good person, such a kind, caring soul, and he didn’t deserve any of what happened to him. Not that he knows exactly what happened to him anyway. Not even Bucky can remember most of it. Still. Steve’s point stands. 

~~~

Fury calls on a Tuesday and sets the team’s Phase 2 meeting for Friday, in order to give the people offworld enough time to get back. Bucky grimaces when Steve hangs up the holo, and pulls away when Steve tries to hold him. He looks apologetic as he turns away and goes to his room. He closes the door quietly, and the sound echoes in Steve’s ears for hours.

Steve takes him lunch, knocking on the door to try and hand him the plate, but he doesn’t get an answer. He leaves it on the floor in front of the door and tells Bucky it’s there, lets him know he’ll be downstairs if he needs anything.

When he comes back to do the same for dinner, he notices the lunch plate on the floor where he left it, empty but for a few crumbs. At least he’s eating. Steve knocks and lets Bucky know his dinner is outside his room if he wants it.

Steve doesn’t see Bucky the rest of the day. He barely sleeps that night, his bed too cold and too large without Bucky by his side.

He doesn’t see Bucky at all on Wednesday. Or Thursday. He left some books outside Bucky’s door on Wednesday, and a bag of his favorite cookies from the deli down the street on Thursday with lunch. Everything he leaves is gone when he checks back, but still no Bucky.

He brushes his teeth and pulls on his sleep pants Thursday night, and suddenly he just can’t stand not seeing Bucky for one moment longer. He just...he’s so close, and yet so damned far away, and if Bucky would just  _ talk _ to Steve, maybe he could help. Maybe he could share his burden a little bit, ease some of his pain. It’s not fucking  _ fair. _

He walks down to Bucky’s room and knocks on the door again. “Bucky? Baby, please, if you’re awake, will you let me in? It’s been almost three days since I’ve seen you, and I’m starting to get worried. We don’t even have to talk, okay? Whatever you need. Just...please, Buck,” he pleads, voice breaking on Bucky’s name. “I know you’re hurting. I just want to help.”

He puts his ear to the door, listening for movement in Bucky’s room. Nothing. He must be asleep, or...ignoring him or...no, he’d left a clean plate just a few hours ago. He’s probably fine. Just sleeping.

Steve rests his head against Bucky’s door and sighs. He bangs his head a little bit out of frustration, then once more because it’s satisfying, before saying a quiet “good night. I love you,” and heading back to his own room.

He leaves the door open just in case.

Steve startles awake, groggy and confused. There’s a warm weight on the bed behind him, and he flinches when he feels a hand running down his arm, his waist, his thigh. “Shh,” Bucky soothes, “shh. It’s just me, Steve.”

“B’ky?” Steve croaks, and Bucky chuckles, dropping a kiss to Steve’s bare shoulder.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me.”

“You okay?” Steve asks, going to flip over so he can see Bucky’s face. Bucky presses up behind Steve and keeps him from turning over, guiding him back to his side. Steve takes the hint and snuggles back against Bucky, who wraps his arm around Steve’s chest and holds him tight. 

Bucky’s breathing wetly, and Steve can tell he’s working his way up to telling him something, something important, so he tries his best to stay awake. It’s just...Bucky is so warm and solid behind him, and he’s missed him so much. He feels safe and loved, and it’s the middle of the night, so he’s almost drifted off again when he hears Bucky whisper, “I’m scared, Steve.”

Steve hums a bit, waking back up. “Scared of what?”

“Of what Fury is going to say tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand is on Steve’s chest, so he clasps it in his own, squeezing before winding their fingers together. “No matter what he says tomorrow, no matter what we learn, I am always going to love you, okay? I am always going to want you. Nothing will ever change that. Ever.”

Bucky sighs and leans his head on Steve’s shoulder. When he speaks, it’s so quiet Steve almost can’t hear him. “I think that’s part of the problem, Steve.”

Steve’s chest feels tight suddenly, and he can feel his breathing speed up. “What do you mean?” he whispers back, desperate to look at Bucky’s face but scared to move in case he scares Bucky off.

Bucky shakes his head against Steve’s shoulder and chokes back a sob. “Honey, no,” Steve says, and Bucky squeezes Steve tighter and cries silently on his shoulder.

Steve holds his hand and lets him cry, and when he stops shaking with it, when Bucky’s taken a few deep breaths, Steve takes a chance and starts moving their joined hands down his own torso, past his stomach, stopping right above the waistband of his sleep pants.

“You can, if you want. If it will help. I want you to,” Steve whispers.

Bucky kisses his neck and sighs again, but he also starts moving his fingers over Steve’s skin, dipping his fingertips past his waistband, teasing at his pubic hair. Steve pushes back against Bucky’s dick, just a little, enough that Bucky will feel it but not so much that it’s overwhelming. Bucky makes a little wounded sound in the back of his throat, but he kisses Steve’s neck again and presses his dick against Steve’s ass. He’s half-hard now, and Steve can feel Bucky’s dick twitch through his sleep pants.

“Yeah, baby, that’s good. That’s so good,” Steve coos, and Bucky huffs and stills. “Bucky?” Steve asks, wondering what he did to make Bucky stop.

“I don’t...I don’t think I can…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I  _ want  _ to, just not…” he growls a little at himself in frustration, and Steve runs back what just happened a few times before he thinks he gets it.

“You want me to be quiet? Not talk?”

Bucky sighs, relieved that Steve figured it out without him having to say it. “Yeah. If that’s okay?”

“Sure, baby, if that’s what you want.” Steve rolls his hips again, and he can feel Bucky getting back with the program. “Can I still make noise for you? Nothing loud, I just don’t think I’ll be able to stay totally silent.”

“Mm-hmm, yeah, that’ll be good.” 

Steve gasps when Bucky works his hand into Steve’s sleep pants, sighing happily when he works them off and wraps his hand around his dick. 

Bucky takes his time with Steve, running his hands up and down Steve’s back, his arm, his thigh, stomach, flank, ass, everywhere but where he wants them. Bucky shushes him and presses kisses into his hair, his shoulders, bites the tendon in his neck and tongues away the pain. Steve’s breathless and boneless by the time Bucky finally lifts his leg up and rubs lube around his hole before pressing a finger inside. 

Steve whines when Bucky adds a second. It feels so good, so fucking good, and he wants more. He wants to feel Bucky inside of him, hot and hard, wants to feel him thrusting deeper and deeper. Bucky shushes him and adds a third finger, and it burns a little, burns so good, but then Bucky hits his spot, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. 

He tilts his head back, twisting a little so he can brush his mouth against Bucky’s. “Please,” he whispers, desperate and shivery. “Please,” he begs. 

Bucky groans and kisses him properly before pulling his fingers out of Steve’s ass. Steve hisses and whines at the loss, sighing happily when he feels the blunt tip of Bucky’s slick cock against his hole.

Bucky pushes in slowly, letting Steve feel every inch of him, just how he likes it. And he does like it, fuck does he, that first slide home, thick and inexorable. Bucky grunts when his hips are flush with Steve’s ass, and Steve groans to match him. Bucky stills for a moment, letting Steve adjust to the feel of him, before pulling back slowly and pressing back inside. 

He fucks Steve slow and deep, and Steve feels all shivery, it feels so good. He’d forgetten how good it is, how much he likes having Bucky inside him, how it lights him up, makes his nerves sing and pop. He’s hard, so hard, and leaking, and he wants to touch himself, wants to come so badly, but he also wants this to last forever, or at least as long as Bucky needs, and if he touches himself right now it’ll be over. 

He’s making high-pitched, needly little noises with every thrust, whimpering and shaking as Bucky slides in and out of him, again and again and again. 

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky grunts, tightening his grip on Steve’s thigh and lifting his leg just a little bit higher. He fucks back in harder than before. He’s close, so close, so Steve wraps his hand around his cock and strokes, fast, a counterpoint to Bucky’s slow but hard thrusts. Bucky groans when he sees Steve touch himself, thrusting harder right into Steve’s prostate but still at that maddeningly slow pace. Steve wants it harder, faster, more, more, always more, but this is about Bucky, not about him, so he tilts his head back onto Bucky’s shoulder and takes what he’s given.

Bucky fucks into Steve, gasping and grinding and biting down on Steve’s shoulder when he comes. Steve grunts at the sharp pain, his hand flying over his cock as he comes, too, splattering his torso and belly and hand. Bucky twitches inside him as he clenches down on his cock, and they both moan at the feeling. Steve shivers once, then again, feeling raw and fucked out and loved. So loved. 

Bucky’s panting and pressing little kisses onto Steve’s skin in between breaths. He gently lowers Steve’s leg and slides out, feeling around the bed for the sleep pants he threw aside earlier. He uses them to wipe off the come cooling on Steve, then wipes between his legs to clean off some of the lube and come there. He pulls up the covers when he feels Steve shiver again. Bucky lays back down behind Steve, pulling him close and snuggling in. 

“I love you,” he whispers into Steve’s hair, his breathing evening out almost immediately as he falls asleep. 

“I love you, too,” Steve answers, even though he knows Bucky can’t hear him. He’s sleepy, too, warm and well-fucked, and he closes his eyes and prays to every god he can think of that whatever happens tomorrow, he doesn’t lose this.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve wakes up first the next morning and slides out of bed carefully so he doesn’t wake Bucky. He makes them both a big breakfast, and brews some coffee. The smell of coffee brewing usually wakes Bucky up, so Steve waits a few minutes to see if he’s going to come out of their bedroom. When he doesn’t, Steve decides to let him sleep and starts eating his own breakfast before it gets too cold.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen an hour later, rumpled and frowning, and if it weren’t such an important day, if he didn’t know Bucky was probably incredibly nervous right now, he’d laugh and go over and kiss Bucky senseless until he wasn’t so grouchy.

Instead, all he says is, “coffee’s in the carafe, and there’s a plate of food for you in the oven.” Bucky grunts an acknowledgement and goes to get himself a mug. Bucky eats in silence, and Steve lets him. At one point he reaches across the table and tries to squeeze Bucky’s hand to reassure him, but Bucky flinches hard when he feels Steve’s hand on his, so Steve pulls his hand back and sets it on his lap.

Bucky coughs and looks up at Steve. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just…”

Steve smiles what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m sorry for startling you. I’m just gonna clean up some dishes. You finish eating and we’ll go catch the tram to HQ.”

Bucky swallows hard and nods.

They get ready in silence, and Steve’s trying to be supportive if this is what Bucky needs, but he’s aching to say something, to do something,  _ anything _ . Bucky’s just straightening up from pulling on his shoes when Steve grabs him gently by the shoulder and says, “hey, it’s gonna be —”

“Don’t say ‘okay,’” Bucky cuts in sharply. “Don’t say that, Steve. Because you don’t know that it will be. In fact, I have a feeling things are going to be pretty far from okay. So don’t tell me otherwise.”

Steve lets go of Bucky and holds up his hands. “Okay, sorry. I just…” Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing down his frustration. This isn’t about him. He needs to remember that. “How about no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out together, okay? Is that better.”

Bucky sighs and shrugs, shouldering past Steve and out the door. Steve sighs again and follows. Bucky sets a brisk pace on their walk to the tram station, and he doesn’t seem interested in talking anymore, so Steve gives him some space. His fingers are itching to touch, to soothe, but if talking is off the table, touch is  _ definitely _ off the table now. 

Steve feels like Bucky is mad at him for some reason, like he’s done something wrong. He spends the entire tram ride trying to figure out what that thing is, carefully ignoring the way Bucky’s leg keeps bouncing in place. He can’t think of any reason why Bucky would be upset with him today. He seemed fine last night. Was it the shoulder touching thing? No, he seemed upset even before that. He must just be stressed. But then why not let Steve comfort him? He usually likes that.

Steve’s thinking so hard that he doesn’t even realize when they get to their stop. Bucky has to push him on the shoulder to get him to snap out of it, and he stands up and hurries to follow Bucky off the tram. 

Everyone else is already in the meeting room when they get there, and Steve feels a little wave of guilt wash over him for being late until he realizes they’re actually on time and everyone else must have been early. He sits down at the table just as Fury stands up, walking over to Bucky and asking to talk to him privately for a moment before he starts the meeting. Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve before he looks back at Fury and nods, leaving the room with him and closing the door behind them.

Steve’s immediately anxious and can’t focus on anything anyone else is saying. A few people try to engage him in conversation, but he can’t stop staring at the door Fury and Bucky just walked out of, so eventually everyone just stops trying to include him in their conversations.

The door opens about ten minutes later, and Fury comes through first. Steve starts to get up out of his chair, but when Bucky walks through the door and sees Steve, he shakes his head sharply, so Steve sits back down. He’s even more worried now, though, because Bucky looks...well, he looks terrible. He’s pale, his eyes rimmed red like he’s been crying. He also sits in a seat across the table from Steve, as far away as he can, instead of the open seat next to him. 

Oh, fuck, this is going to be bad.

Fury starts talking, something about the Hydra splinter cells, what planets they’re on, how many members each one has, methods and timetables for taking them out. He moves on to Al Exander and how difficult he’s been in custody; non-cooperative to say the very least, and usually outright hostile. They’re having a hard time gleaning any information from him.

He moves on to talk about the captives they’d taken and how most of them have been released back to their home planets. That information draws a few questions, but Fury promises all will become clear in a moment.

Steve half listens to everything Fury says, knowing he should be paying more attention and caring about all of this information, but he just can’t seem to focus on anything but Bucky sitting across the table, looking miserable. Steve aches to comfort him, to touch him, talk to him, anything but this distance, this separation. Steve feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He keeps willing Bucky to look at him, but he’s kept his head down the entire time Fury has talked. He hasn’t looked up at Steve, not even once.

Right before Steve is either going to hit something or get up and walk out of the room, Fury says, “okay, now on to Barnes and Nebula.” He pauses to look at Bucky and only proceeds when Bucky gives him a little nod. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Based on the records we found at the temple, what little information we managed to get from Al Exander, and Barnes’s own testimony, here’s what we believed happened: the temple complex where the Hydra lived originally had a small number of zealots who worshipped the Hydra, led by Al Exander. When Barnes went to H’ae D’rah the first time, they saw an opportunity to drastically increase the power of the Hydra. They needed a blood or flesh sacrifice from a Voyager for it to work, but it needed to be voluntary, as it turned out.

“So the Hydra put the idea into Barnes’s head that if he or anyone in his life every got into major trouble, that he should come to H’ae D’rah and everything would be all right. They knew a Voyager has a long life and were willing to wait. Then Steve fell deathly ill just a few years later, and Bucky took him to H’ae D’rah, and gave his arm to save Steve’s life. They made him a new metal one, strengthening his skeleton with metal before attaching the arm. It’s actually a pretty impressive piece of technology and functions almost the same as a flesh arm.

“What Al Exander and the Hydra didn’t expect was that Bucky’s sacrifice would make Steve a Voyager, too, and that was a secret they desperately wanted to keep. With the Hydra’s newfound increase in power, it was able to wipe Steve’s memory of the event and of anything Barnes told him about his first visit to H’ae D’rah. It was also able to essentially brainwash Barnes: when the Hydra consumed his arm, it created a sort of blood link between them, so it was able to bend Barnes to its will. But that wasn’t always enough to control him, so they resorted to torture in order to weaken him since the blood link control worked better when he was in a weakened state.

What it did with that control was to send Barnes out to populated planets to kidnap beings who wouldn’t be missed, bringing them back to the temple where the Hydra would brainwash them and force them to become cultists.”

Fury pauses to take a breath here, and Steve feels the weight of that revelation settle into his stomach. Dozens and dozens of cultists died during their attack on the complex, and knowing they were unwilling participants… Oh, this is why Bucky looked so terrible when he came back in after talking with Fury. He blames himself for their deaths. Gods, Steve  _ aches _ for him.

Fury continues. “They took Nebula because they were trying to replicate the event that turned Steve into a Voyager. They thought if they could turn enough cultists into Voyagers, they would have a powerful force they could use to travel all around the universe, spreading their cult planet by planet. 

“They knew they needed flesh, since that’s what worked with Barnes, but Nebula wasn’t there willingly, and didn’t consent to having pieces of herself removed, so they were never able to replicate their results. They tortured her, removed parts of her body, and replaced them with robotic and mechanical parts, like they did with Barnes and his arm. She’s currently back on her home planet with Gamora, healing and resting. Apparently they have a Mender there who is incredibly talented, so hopefully they’ll be able to help her.

“We also have excellent Menders here who can help with the mental toll this mission has taken, so please see them if you need to. It’s important that you all take care of yourselves in this regard. And I think it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: none of this was Barnes’s fault. He is a victim in all of this, as is Nebula. Yes, it is incredibly unfortunate that cultists died during our incursion, but we are making every effort to contact their next of kin where applicable, and return the survivors to their families wherever possible.

There’s further information in the data packet I’ve taken the liberty of sending to all your homes. Phase 2, which is splinter cell eradication, will start in a week, and teams have been assigned. If you aren’t on a team and want to take part, let me know. Most of you here today are not on Phase 2 teams. We have plenty of members who are ready to go on this one. Let them step up. This has been a long, long fight, and you have all done more than enough. Rest, recover, do whatever you need to do for a while. There will be other battles to fight. Understood?”

Steve nods his head, as does everyone else sitting around the table, except for Bucky, who’s still looking down, his shoulders up by his ears. Loki is sitting next to him, and Steve frowns a bit. He hadn’t noticed Loki going over. He pats Bucky on the shoulder, and Bucky takes it for the reassurance it is. Steve feels a spike of jealousy shoot through him, and he takes a breath to tamp it down. Bucky is allowed to have friends. He’s allowed to be comforted by those friends. Steve unclenches his fists and looks back at Fury.

“If no one has anything else, I’ll dismiss you. Take care of yourselves and each other. Be safe,” Fury says, closing the meeting.

Steve stands up, but Bucky is up first, out of the room in a flash. Steve frowns and starts after him, but he stops when he hears Sam call his name. 

“How are you?” Sam asks, pulling Steve into a hug.

“I’m okay,” Steve responds, eyes flicking to the door Bucky just walked through.

“All healed? No lingering problems?” 

Steve softens a bit and nods. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Thanks for asking, though.” Steve looks at the door again.

“Everything okay between you and Barnes?”

“Oh. Um. I thought so. Now I’m not so sure.”

“He had a hard day today. He might just need some space.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“All right, well, you take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Sam.”

Sam chuckles and claps Steve on the shoulder before walking away to go talk to someone else. Steve takes the opportunity to leave the room, seeing if he can find where Bucky went, but there’s no trace of him. Steve sighs and starts walking to the tram station. He might as well go home and wait for Bucky there.

He’s hungry when he gets home, and it’s later than he realized. The meeting had taken almost three hours, all told. Steve sighs at himself as he makes a sandwich. He must have really zoned out most of the meeting, worrying about Bucky. Who’s still not home. And hasn’t sent word about where he is. Steve eats his sandwich and settles in to wait.

~~~

Steve startles awake, inhaling sharply and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He groans and stretches, sitting up on the couch and looking around to try and figure out what woke him. There’s a light on in the kitchen, and Steve can hear the faint clattering of someone moving around in there, trying, and failing, to be quiet while getting a glass or a plate.

He gets up and shuffles into the kitchen. Bucky’s standing in front of the open fridge, a small frown on his face as he stares at the contents trying to figure out what he wants to eat. Steve starts walking over to give him a hug or a kiss, he hasn’t decided yet, but Bucky stiffens when he finally realizes Steve is in the room, which stops Steve dead in his tracks.

“There’s leftovers in the container with the blue lid, if you want.” 

Bucky hums but doesn’t look away from the fridge.

“Is, um...is everything…” Steve trails off and sighs at himself. He was going to ask if everything was okay, but clearly it isn’t. He runs a hand down his face and takes a breath, changing tack. “I know today was a hard day. How can I help?”

Bucky looks up at Steve sharply, his face twisted into a look Steve’s never seen directed at him before. It almost looks like disdain, but that — that can’t be right. Can it? Bucky must be able to read the distress on Steve’s face because he turns back to the fridge and closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths before he looks back at Steve. His face is more neutral now, but he still doesn’t look happy.

“Were you waiting up for me?” Bucky asks, changing the subject.

“Not exactly. I was waiting for you on the couch, but I fell asleep.”

“How much of the meeting did you listen to?”

Steve frowns at yet another subject change. “Uh…”

“I saw you over there, looking at me, gears turning in your head.”

Steve snorts. “How could you see me? You were looking down at the table the whole time.”

Bucky exhales sharply, turning his head to look away from Steve again. “Not much, then. I bet you only paid attention to what Fury was saying when it was about me.”

Bucky sounds bitter and tired, and it’s late in the evening after a very long day, so that explains the tiredness. But the other thing. Steve doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he’s starting to get a very bad feeling about it in the pit of his stomach.

“I guess, yeah. I didn’t mean to. You just looked really upset after Fury talked to you, and I wanted to comfort you, but you were so far away.”

Bucky slams the fridge door shut, startling Steve. “I don’t need you to comfort me. I need you to leave me alone!” he hisses, striding out of the kitchen and down to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Steve stares after him, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Steve sighs and drinks a glass of water and replays the day in his head, trying to figure out what he did to make Bucky so mad at him. Something about the meeting and how Steve hadn’t listened was upsetting him, but otherwise Steve really has no idea. He sighs again and puts the glass in the dishwasher before heading to his own room. He passes by Bucky’s door and stops, raising his hand to knock on it. He thinks he should apologize, probably. Or would apologizing for something vague when he wasn’t sure what he did only make it worse?

Then again, Bucky did say he wanted Steve to leave him alone. Steve sighs for a third time, worn and heavy, and lowers his arm. He heads back to his room and crawls into bed, pulling the covers over his head. He suddenly feels like crying, there in his little blanket cave. 

~~~

Bucky is quiet the next morning and barely looks at Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurts out when Bucky stands up to put his dishes in the sink. He pauses and waits to hear what Steve is going to say next. “Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Please just talk to me, Buck.”

Bucky walks to the sink and places his dishes down carefully. He walks back to his room, and doesn’t look at Steve once. Steve’s sitting on the couch, sort of staring off into nothing, thinking about Bucky and daydreaming, when Bucky emerges from his room. He stops in front of Steve and declares, “I’m going to the library.”

Steve blinks up at him. “Okay. Let me get my shoes and I can —”

“Alone.”

Bucky looks stern and determined, like he expects Steve to put up some sort of a fight. “Oh. Uh, sure. Of course. Have fun!”

Bucky looks surprised but nods, heading out of the living room and then out the front door. Steve sighs and leans back on the couch and decides a nap is in order. Maybe his subconscious can figure out what the hell is going on. His conscious brain sure can’t.

Bucky goes to the open-air market the next day, alone. The day after that, it’s the park. Alone. Then to a museum. Alone. Then who knows where, he just says he’s going out and doesn’t tell Steve where he’s going. Then he stops telling Steve he’s leaving altogether, just walks out the door in the morning and doesn’t come back until nighttime. Sometimes he misses dinner, and on those days Steve puts a plate of food in the oven to keep it warm. Before he goes to bed, he puts it in a container in the fridge for Bucky to eat whenever he does come home. 

Steve inevitably eats it for lunch the next day. 

Steve’s been lonely before, but he’s certain he’s never been lonelier in his whole life than now. 

~~~

Two weeks pass, and Steve feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He had hoped that giving Bucky some space would help him work through whatever he needs to work through — most likely everything Fury told him at the meeting, which was awful, and Steve can understand why Bucky is having such a hard time, but it’s still just conjecture at this point because Bucky  _ won’t fucking talk to him. _ He keeps reeling between anger at Bucky for cutting him out and a sharp ache for how much Bucky must be hurting, and how much Steve is hurting  _ for _ Bucky.

And for himself. Because something has changed between them, Steve can feel it. He just hopes whatever it is isn’t irrevocable. 

~~~

At the end of the third week, Steve sits at the kitchen table and waits up for Bucky. They’ve barely said two words to each other all week, and Steve can’t take it anymore. He’s on his second cup of coffee when he finally hears the front door open. He sets his mug down and walks toward the front door, his stomach fluttering with nerves.

Bucky startles when Steve approaches, clearly not expecting him to still be awake. And probably not wanting him to be, Steve thinks bitterly. “Bucky…” he starts, pausing to take a deep breath and regroup when he hears the harshness in his voice. That’s not how he wants this to go. Yeah, he’s upset and hurting, but he has a feeling that being confrontational is only going to make Bucky shut down even further.

Bucky’s tense when Steve opens his eyes again, shoulders up by his ears, hands on his elbows like he’s hugging himself for strength and comfort. 

“Bucky,” he says gently, and Bucky’s shoulders drop some, to Steve’s relief. “Can we please talk? I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re upset with me —”

“Steve…” Bucky tries to interject, but Steve keeps going.

“— and you asked for space, so I gave you space, but it’s been three weeks, Buck. It’s been three weeks, and I  _ miss _ you. I miss you, even though we’re in the same house, and I just…”

Steve’s voice breaks, and Bucky unfolds his arms, reaching a hand out and taking a step forward before stopping himself. Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to blink away the burning in his eyes.

“I can’t keep going like this,” he whispers. “It’s killing me. Can we  _ please _ just talk and try to figure this out? I love you, and I want to figure it out, okay? Please, Buck, I...” Steve trails off and shakes his head, closing his eyes and wiping away the tears that spill onto his cheeks.

He can hear Bucky sigh, and a sharp pain spikes in his chest.

He sags and exhales slowly, dropping his chin to his chest in defeat. “Okay. That’s fine. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m gonna head to bed.” He turns away, hoping to conceal the pain he knows is written all over his face. He just needs to make it to his room. He can fall apart when he’s there, safe under the covers.

“Steve, wait,” Bucky says, pushing past Steve so he’s in front of him again. He puts his hands on Steve’s upper arms and just looks at Steve for a minute. Steve can’t bring himself to look back, doesn’t feel strong enough for whatever he’ll find in Bucky’s eyes. He feels Bucky move a hand from his shoulder, gently placing it under his chin and tilting his face up.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, wiping a tear from his cheek, and Steve takes a fortifying breath and opens his eyes. 

Bucky looks so sad for him, like he…

“Oh,” Steve chokes out, dropping his head again and clenching his fists. Pity. That’s what was written all over Bucky’s face. Steve shakes his head and takes a few deep breaths. That’s it, then. That’s it.

“Hey,” Bucky says, moving his hand down to Steve’s bicep and squeezing it lightly. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? I promise. Tomorrow morning. It’s just...it’s late, and I’m tired. I want to go to bed. Let’s go to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning, Steve, I promise.”

He does sound tired, and a little desperate, and Steve wants to just retreat to his own room and pull his covers over his head and go back to ten minutes ago when Bucky wasn’t home and Steve hadn’t confronted him and Bucky still loved him.

Instead he nods and lets Bucky lead him to Bucky’s room, and he hates himself a little bit for going so easily, but if this is the last night they have together, then Steve wants to fall asleep in Bucky’s arms one more time before he takes his warmth away and leaves Steve colder.

Bucky points to the door of the en suite bathroom when they get into his room. “I’m just gonna...do you need to or…?” 

Steve shakes his head, and Bucky nods and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Steve swallows and turns around to stare at Bucky’s bed. The right side looks more worn and rumpled, so he walks around to the left side and pulls the covers back, sliding underneath, his back to Bucky’s side of the bed and the bathroom door. 

The sheets on Bucky’s bed are soft and cool, a dark gray that Steve bought years ago when he moved in and set up this room, thinking Bucky would like them if he ever got the chance to see them. That feels like a lifetime ago, standing in the store comparing the softness of sheets. They smell like Bucky now, and Steve presses his nose into the pillow and inhales deeply.

Bucky comes out of the bathroom and makes a soft noise when he sees Steve in his bed. He switches off the lights and crawls into bed behind Steve, facing Steve’s back, stopping a few inches before they touch. 

“Can I?” he asks, and Steve hates that he asks, that he feels he has to now, but he agrees anyway. Bucky reaches out and hooks his arm around Steve’s waist and pulls him to his chest.

Steve closes his eyes and clasps his hand around Bucky’s and just breathes for a while. Bucky is quiet behind him, though Steve can tell he’s not asleep. 

“I used to fit better,” Steve jokes, and Bucky snorts into Steve’s hair. They’re quiet a while longer, and Steve lets Bucky’s body, solid and soothing behind him, bleed warmth into his bones.

“You know, after you left the first time to go Voyaging,” Steve whispers in the dark, “I went to your apartment and asked your mom if I could have something of yours. She pitied me, too, I think, but I didn’t really care because she agreed. So I walked into your room and took that heavy blanket from your bed, the one with the ugly stripes. You remember that thing?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Bucky whispers back.

Steve hums and continues. “I took it back to my room, and I rolled it up, and I put it under my covers, and...I laid down on my side and pressed my back against it and pretended it was you. I closed my eyes and pretended it was you. It smelled like you, which helped, but it was still just a fucking rolled up blanket. I always felt stupid in the morning, but at night, when I couldn’t sleep and you were so far away, it helped. It helped.”

“Steve…” Bucky starts, trailing off when he can’t think of anything to say. He presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck, just a brush of his lips, really, and Steve feels something inside of him break. He inhales sharply and holds his breath, willing himself not to cry as a cold hand wraps itself around his heart and squeezes, hard and sharp.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, but Steve shakes his head, so Bucky stops. 

“It’s okay, Bucky,” he grits out around the lump in his throat. “It’s okay. Just give me tonight, all right? Just give me tonight, and I’ll…”  _ let you go, _ Steve thinks but can’t say out loud. He squeezes Bucky’s hand, taking one shaky breath and then another and another. He closes his eyes and breathes and breathes and lets Bucky hold him as he loses his battle and shakes apart. 

~~~

His eyes feel swollen when he wakes up alone, his throat sore and raw. He goes into the bathroom and drinks a glass of water, which helps his throat a little, before making his way toward the kitchen. He’s in the living room when he sees the packed bag sitting by the door. His stomach drops, and he suddenly feels very vulnerable and exposed in just a t-shirt and his sleep pants. He turns around and heads to his bedroom, grabbing his softest, thickest, long, belted cardigan sweater that Natasha had bought him as a joke but ended up being truly amazing. He pulls it on and belts it tightly and feels slightly more prepared to face whatever Bucky has to tell him.

Bucky’s sitting at the kitchen table, his beautiful fingers wrapped delicately around a mug of tea. His metal hand is laying on the table, drumming out a sharp staccato with his fingers. He looks up as Steve enters the room, smiling tightly at him. At least Steve isn’t the only nervous one. 

“Coffee’s in the pot, if you want some,” he says, and Steve nods his thanks. He does want some. He pours himself a cup and sits down in front of Bucky. He takes a deep, fortifying breath and looks him in the eye.

“So…” he starts, but he can’t seem to think of one single fucking thing to say after that. Thankfully, Bucky takes pity on him and starts talking, just like he promised.

“I’m going on a Voyage, Steve.”

“Oh. Okay. Do you want me to —”

“With Loki.”

“Ah.” Steve looks down at his coffee, watching the little bubbles on the side pop as he swirls his mug around.

“I just…” Bucky huffs out a breath and runs his hand through his hair. “I can’t do this anymore, Steve. Us. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I tried, and I just can’t.”

Steve nods and keeps his eyes on his coffee, swirling around and around. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

The chair creaks as Bucky leans back. “I don’t know. A while.”

“A while, as in before Fury talked with you at the meeting or just after?”

“After. Mostly. A little before, I guess.”

Steve frowns and looks up at Bucky. “What do you mean?”

Bucky sighs and looks away. “When Fury told me what I did...Steve, all of those people that died in the raid, they’re dead because of me. I kidnapped them. I brought them to H’ae D’rah. They died because I chose them, and I brought them to their doom.”

“That’s not true, Bucky, and you know it. The Hydra fucked with your head and made you do those things.”

“But I still did them, Steve! I did them!”

“The Hydra did them, it just  _ used _ you! Look what happened when you broke the brainwashing. You started helping us immediately. You told us how to defeat it. We would have  _ died _ if it weren’t for you and what you did that day.”

Bucky shakes his head before looking at Steve. “I don’t expect you to understand, Steve.”

Steve sighs and closes his eyes briefly before looking back. “Nothing I say is going to change your mind about that, is it?”

Bucky shakes his head again. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with, Steve, all those years ago.”

“ _ Cacat, _ Bucky,” Steve says, his frustration growing. “Neither am I. Both figuratively and literally. I don’t care about all that. I don’t care about what the Hydra made you do. You’re still my Bucky, and you always will be.”

“I’m not, though. Not anymore. And you’re not my Steve.”

Steve reels, sitting back hard against his chair. 

Bucky swallows and whispers, “I don’t even think  _ you _ know who you are anymore.”

Steve feels anger rising in his chest, tears burning in his eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means all you’ve done since we got back is wait around on me and watch me and be near to me and not leave the house unless you’re with me, and I feel like I can’t breathe half of the time! You didn’t know about the amazing deli down the street, you’ve never met your neighbors. You’d never even been to the  _ library, _ Steve!”

“So what? Who cares about a fucking library?”

“And you didn’t listen to a thing in our very important meeting unless it was about me!” Bucky continues, voice rising as he gets worked up. “You had long hair and a beard when you found me, and then you go and cut your hair and shave your beard to, what, look like your old self? Because that’s what you thought I would want?”

“I...yeah, I guess. I don’t know!”

“That’s the problem, Steve, you don’t know what you want!”

“I want  _ you _ !”

“Well, you can’t have me! So what else? What else is there, Steve?”

“I…”

“What have you been doing all these years that I’ve been gone?”

“I was…”  _ waiting for you, _ he doesn’t say, but they both know it.

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice softening a little. “You got this miraculous second chance at life, and you spent it waiting for me. Why didn’t you go out and  _ live _ ?”

“A lot fucking happened, okay?” Steve hisses, anger boiling over. “First you  _ left me, _ and then my mom died, and then  _ I _ almost died, and suddenly I was alive in this new body with these new powers, and it was weird and awful and took a lot of time to adjust. Then I had to train and start Voyaging all while looking for you and figuring out this whole Hydra debacle!”

“13 years, Steve. I left for the first time 13 years ago, and you’re telling me in all that time, you never had a chance to do anything else? No hobbies? What about friends? Did you Voyage by yourself or did you go out with anyone?”

“Both, I went out by myself and I went with other people.”

“Who?”

“Sam and Natasha, Loki a few times. Thor, mostly.”

“Tell me about Thor, then.”

“What do you want me to say? He’s Asgardian, Loki’s brother. He’s strong and kind, has this hammer thing that can call lightning.”

“How does he take his coffee?”

“What?”

“How does he take his coffee?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Trick question. He doesn’t drink coffee, only tea, and that with milk and honey.”

Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that. His anger burns out, though, replaced with guilt and a slow, sweeping sense of dread. “Bucky…”

“Where are your sketchbooks?”

“Bucky…”

“There’s no art on the walls, no holo photos, no books. There are no trinkets or textiles or dishes, something,  _ anything, _ from the places you’ve Voyaged.”

“What is your  _ point, _ Bucky?”

“My point is that you’ve been so wrapped up in  _ me  _ that you’ve forgotten about  _ you _ ! You’ve put up these walls, and I’m the only one allowed in. And I can’t do that, Steve, I can’t be that for you. It’s too big. It’s too much pressure. I can’t be the only thing in this gods-damn universe that you care about. I can’t heal and work through all of the trauma the Hydra put me through while also worrying about how my emotions are going to affect you.

I need you to have something besides me. And until you figure out what that is and who you want to be — not who you think  _ I  _ want you to be — I can’t be with you. I’m sorry, Steve, I just can’t.”

Steve feels his face crumple. He leans forward and covers his face with his hands, letting out a small whimper as he takes a deep, shaky breath. He hears the scrape of Bucky’s chair on the floor as he gets up and moves the table out of the way so he can kneel down in front of Steve.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up to pull Steve’s hands away from his face. He winces at what he finds behind Steve’s hands, squeezing them tightly in his own. “I love you. And I always will. I just need some time and some space, okay? To figure out who I am now, to heal. I need that for me, Steve. And you need it for yourself, too. Just...Just think about what I said, will you? Please?”

Steve huffs and nods jerkily, dislodging a tear from his eye that streaks down his cheek. Bucky reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, pressing it into Steve’s hand and closing his fingers around it before standing up. Steve opens his hand to see what it is, grunting in pain when he sees it’s the compass. Bucky’s compass. He opens the lid and sees himself as he used to be, so young, knowing hard times were coming but still full of hope. He looks back up at Bucky, lip quivering.

“Not forever, I swear. Just for now,” Bucky says.

Steve stands up and grabs Bucky’s hand and looks him right in the eye. He puts the compass back in Bucky’s hand and gently folds his fingers around it, like Bucky did to him a moment ago. “It’s yours. Keep it.”

Bucky nods and pulls his hand away, running his thumb around the rim of the compass in what looks like a habitual movement. He leans in and places a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he says as he takes a few steps back. 

“Yeah. You too,” Steve croaks out. 

He watches Bucky smile softly at him before turning away and walking to the door. Bucky picks up his bag and opens the front door, pausing to look back at Steve one more time before stepping through and closing the door softly behind him.

Steve’s rooted to the spot, shock and disbelief swirling through him. Bucky did it. He actually left. Steve’s not sure how long he stands in the kitchen, but at some point he shakes himself out of it and goes to the sink for a glass of water. He thinks about eating but decides he isn’t hungry. He goes to his room, pulls the covers over his head, and cries himself to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

When Steve wakes up, it’s the middle of the night, and he half expects Bucky to still be in the house, the day’s prior events some sort of fever dream. He isn’t, of course. He really did leave, and that realization sends a spike of pain lancing through Steve’s body.

Sleep is a long time coming again, and Steve, all cried out for the time being, tries to think about what Bucky said to him, about how he’s lost himself. Turns out he’s not quite ready for that sort of introspection yet. Instead he lays in bed and tries to let his thoughts drift and flow, but they keep returning to Bucky. Turns out he does still have some tears left.

The next few days pass by in a blur, time running together: the days seem to fly by, the nights last forever, stretching and stretching until Steve swears the sun will never rise again. There’s an ache deep in Steve’s bones, in his marrow, straight to the very heart of him. He doesn’t feel like eating. He doesn’t feel like doing anything except wallowing in his own grief and misery. And why not? Why the fuck not.

~~~

There’s a knock on the door sometime in the afternoon of the third day, and Steve frowns. He gets up from the couch with a groan, his legs stiff from disuse. He pulls his favorite burgundy throw tighter around his shoulders and shuffles toward the door. 

“I’m coming!” he grumbles when the person knocks again, pulling the door open to reveal Thor on the other side, holding bags of groceries, a wide smile splitting his face. 

“Steve!” he exclaims, pushing past him and into the house before Steve can say anything. He steps back and frowns, following Thor into the house and wondering what he’s doing here.

So he asks.

“Oh, Loki told me what happened between you and Bucky, so I thought I’d come and check on you, see how you were doing, since you didn’t holo me and tell me yourself.”

Steve’s frown deepens. “Why would I do that?”

Thor sets the groceries down on the counter and walks back over, bending down slightly to engulf Steve in a crushing hug. Steve closes his eyes and lets Thor hold him, enjoying the comfort while it lasts. Thor pulls back a little, grasping Steve by the shoulders as he searches his face. “Because we’re friends, Steve, and that’s what friends do,” he says gently.

Steve feels a wave of guilt wash over him. Thor’s right. They are friends. But never once did it occur to him to send a holo asking for him to come over, for help or just to talk, to vent. Gods, Bucky was right. He really did close himself off to anyone but Bucky. 

“Thor, I…” Steve breaks down sobbing before he can finish his sentence, and Thor steps closer and hugs him again, softly shushing and soothing him as he cries. 

“Thank you,” Steve says, wiping away the last of his tears on the throw as he pulls away from Thor. “You’ve been a better friend than I deserve. I’m sorry I haven’t been good to you in return.”

Thor frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

Steve sighs. “It’s just something Bucky said before he left. He said that I’ve been too focused on him and haven’t let anyone else get close to me.”

“Steve…”

“No, he’s right. I’ve lost the two most important people in my life, and I guess I didn’t want to let anyone else in because I was scared to lose them, too. But that’s no way to live. Thank you. For sticking by me. I’m gonna do better, okay?”

“Okay.” Thor shrugs and smiles at Steve, and he feels...lighter. Huh. How about that. 

“So what did you bring in the grocery bags?” Steve asks, heading into the kitchen.

Thor lights up and rubs his hands together. “Ingredients for kludersfitzel.” 

“Of course that’s what you brought,” Steve deadpans.

Thor laughs and claps him on the back. “It’s a very hearty meal, full of meat and vegetables in a rich sauce with these delicious bready bits. Sticks to your ribs so you don’t have to eat much. My mom used to make it for me when I was sad or heartbroken and forgot to eat enough. Very comforting.”

“That sounds delicious, Thor, thank you. Can I help you make it?”

“Of course. We’ll start after you’ve showered and changed,” Thor says, smiling politely. Steve takes the hint and does just that.

~~~

“Why don’t you help me chop up some vegetables?” Thor asks a freshly showered Steve.

“Sure,” he responds, and gets to it. “So, is she a good cook, your mom?”

“Oh, no.” Thor laughs. “No, this is the only thing she can make. She’s the queen, you see, and doesn’t really need to cook at all. She probably could have had the kitchen staff make this, as well, but there is something special about cooking for your loved ones when they need it the most, I suppose.”

Steve sets his knife down mid-chop and stares at Thor. “Your mom is a Queen.”

“Indeed.”

“Which makes you a Prince.”

“Yes. And Loki, as well.” Thor frowns at Steve. “You didn’t know that?”

Steve shakes his head and picks up the knife again, tears welling in his eyes as he slices into an onion. “ _ Cacat, _ I really have been a terrible friend.”

Thor shrugs again. “I don’t think you’ve been  _ terrible. _ Distant, sure. But terrible…”

Steve quirks a small smile. “Thanks. Hey, tell me about your mother, the queen who barely cooks.” Thor laughs and starts talking, and they trade stories long into the night. 

~~~

“You should come to Asgard,” Thor says over breakfast the next morning. They’d both fallen asleep on the couch watching shows, full of kludersfitzel. And Thor had been right — it really was amazing heartbreak food. The company was better, though. He’d broken down a few more times about Bucky, but Thor had been patient and listened, offering advice or just a shoulder to cry on. It was a really nice evening, actually, and Steve felt weird about saying that considering he was nursing a broken heart, but somehow that didn’t feel so daunting in the light of day.

“I could show you my kingdom, the whole realm, even. All of the nine realms, if you wish to see them. Well. We can’t go to Midgard anymore because it’s incredibly toxic, even for Voyagers, but the others we can see. We can travel by Bifrost. I think you’ll like it. It’s sort of like being shot out of a cannon through space.”

Steve chuckles, pulling out some milk from the fridge to pour into Thor’s tea. He stirs in some honey, as well, and sets the mug down in front of him on the table. He sits down and take a sip of his own coffee. It’s strong and sweet and tastes of salted caramel.

“I’d really like that, Thor, thank you. I have a few things I need to do first, though, a few people I need to see. Give me a few months?”

“Of course, Steve, take all the time you need. Asgard isn’t going anywhere. Fury doesn’t have me on any Initiative business at the moment, so my schedule is open. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Steve nods and takes another sip of coffee. “I’ll holo you when I’m ready to visit, and we’ll make a plan.”

Thor nods and smiles. “What are you going to do first?”

“First I’m going to take the rest of the week and let myself be unbearably sad. Then I’m going to go visit an old friend.”

“Sounds nice,” Thor says. “Well, not the sadness part.”

Steve smiles. Thor gets it.

~~~

Steve goes to the Seers Guild, when his week is up, to get some information. While he’s there, he runs into Wanda Maximoff. She gives him a big hug and asks him what he’s doing at the Guild. He tells her he’s in town to get some information about an old friend so he can visit him, and then she gets all excited and asks if he’d be willing to come visit her home planet next. Steve laughs and agrees, and Wanda looks so happy.

“You’re kind of a big deal on Sokovia, you know. Many people are convinced you have some secret power lying dormant, and they’re going to coax it out of you,” she tells him.

Steve’s not sure how he feels about being a big deal anywhere, but he laughs and says he thinks he has enough powers, thanks. Wanda just shrugs and grins. She has to go finish some work, but Steve promises he’ll holo her when he’s done with his first visit, and she wraps him up in another hug and says she’ll see him then.

~~~

Steve’s nervous as he raises his hand to knock on the apartment door. He hopes dropping in like this unannounced is okay. Maybe he should have holo’d first, but he thought it would be fun to make his visit a surprise. He works at the skin between his thumb and index finger as he waits for someone to open the door, nervousness spiking when he hears footsteps approaching.

The door opens, and facing him is Jimmy Woo. “Steve? Steve Rogers?’” Jimmy says, mouth open in shock.

“Hey, Jimmy,” he says, giving a goofy little wave and immediately feeling silly about it.

“Oh, my gods! Steve!” Jimmy exclaims, throwing himself at Steve, who lets out a little “oof” when Jimmy crashes into him, but he wraps his arms around Jimmy anyway.

“This is such a surprise!” Jimmy says when he pulls back. “Gosh! What are you doing here?”

“I —”

“Jimmy!” Comes a rich, melodic voice from inside the apartment. “Invite the man inside already, don’t make him stand out in the hall!”

“Ah, where are my manners? Come in, please.”

Steve smiles and thanks Jimmy, stepping by him and into his apartment. It’s nice; big and open and airy, and standing a few feet away is a stunningly gorgeous person opening a treat for an adorable little girl.

“Oh, Steve, this is my partner, Nythen, and our daughter, Idra.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Nythen says, clasping Steve’s hand in theirs. “Jimmy has told me so much about you and all the time you spent together on Terra IV.” They look at Jimmy then with such love and affection in their golden eyes that Steve almost feels like he’s intruding on a private moment. Jimmy looks equally besotted, and Steve feels a surge of fondness for his friend. Jimmy is a good man, and he deserves this happiness.

Idra breaks the moment by coming up to Steve and holding up her treat. It looks like some sort of sweet frozen ice. 

“Want to try it?” she asks sweetly. Steve kneels down so he can look her in the eye. 

“Thank you, what a nice offer,” he says gently. “But I don’t want to take any of your treat away. Besides, I haven’t eaten any dinner yet, and I don’t want to spoil my dinner!”

“Are you hungry?” Idra asks. “Nata always says we should help people who are hungry.”

“Nata is very wise and very kind,” Steve tells her.

Idra nods. “Yes, they are,” she says, looking up at Nythen with a smile. “Come on!” She holds out her hand again. “Come get some food.” 

Steve stands up and takes her hand and looks up at Jimmy. He has his hand clasped over his heart and looks like he’s about to melt into the floor. Nythen kisses him on the cheek and follows Steve and Idra to the kitchen.

Idra helps Nythen put together a bowl full of some sort of stew that smells spicy and amazing, served over rice. They put some flat bread in the oven to heat, and they all sit around the kitchen table as Steve eats, trading stories and enjoying each other’s company.

Steve cleans his bowl and asks for seconds, if it’s not too much trouble, and Nythen looks incredibly pleased at his request. Idra giggles at him. “It’s really good,” he tells her.

She nods solemnly at him. “It’s my favorite. Nata told me once that their Nata used to make it when they were growing up, too, and that it is their favorite meal.”

“Well, I can see why. It is delicious. I’ve never had anything like it. My compliments to the chef.” 

Idra’s yawning by the time Steve finishes his second bowl, and Nythen gets up to put her to bed.

“I can do it,” Jimmy says, but Nythen waves their hand at Jimmy, leaning in for a kiss.

“I’ve got it tonight. You spend some time with your friend. I’ll join you when Idra is in bed.” 

Jimmy gives his daughter a goodnight kiss and watches them walk off Idra’s bedroom. He looks over at Steve when they’ve disappeared into Idra’s room, shrugging bashfully. Steve smiles at Jimmy and bumps their shoulders together.

“Come on. Let’s go sit down and have a drink, and you can tell me how you met your incredible partner and why in the universe they fell for you.”

Jimmy laughs and grabs a bottle of something shockingly yellow. “I often wonder the same thing.”

They’re two drinks in when Nythen joins them, pouring themself a drink and sitting down with an exhausted sigh. Jimmy leans over and kisses their cheek, and they close their eyes and smile and lean into the kiss. 

“You two are so fucking cute,” Steve says, and Jimmy laughs at him. “How did you meet?”

“I need another drink for this story,” Nythen says, and Steve laughs delightedly as Nythen slams back their drink and starts talking.

~~~

They drink and laugh and talk well into the night, and when Steve wakes up on their couch in the morning, he has no recollection of how he got there. He also doesn’t have a hangover, which is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

He’s the first one awake, so he heads to the kitchen and hopes no one minds him raiding the fridge and cooking some breakfast. Jimmy and Nythen both look worse for wear when they emerge from their bedroom. Idra comes out a few minutes later, still half-asleep, and Steve laughs at how miserable they all look. It’s pretty adorable.

“How are you not hungover?” Nythen groans.

“No idea!” Steve chirps.

“I don’t remember you being this much of an asshole,” Jimmy grumbles, and Steve laughs again as he pushes a plate full of food in front of Jimmy.

Nythen groans when they start eating their food, saying around a mouthful, “babe, your friend is allowed to come stay anytime provided he always cooks breakfast.”

Steve chuckles and asks Idra what she wants, raiding the pantry when the answer is cereal.

After breakfast, Steve thanks Jimmy and Nythen for letting him crash and being gracious hosts. Jimmy seems upset that Steve’s leaving, waving off Steve’s concerns when he says he doesn’t want to impose, and before Steve knows it, he’s agreed to visit Jimmy and Nythen’s workplaces, Idra’s class at school, and to stay for a week.

It ends up being an incredible week, and Steve’s glad he stayed. The days are joyous, but the nights are still hard without Bucky. Each one is a little easier to bear than the last.

~~~

Jimmy, Nythen, and Idra accompany Steve to the  _ Brooklyn _ to see him off. Idra gives him a picture she drew of the four of them together, except they’re all cats for some reason. Steve starts crying in the middle of telling Idra he’s going to hang the picture on his fridge, and the three others wrap him up in a big group hug. Steve’s not really sure why he’s crying over a child’s drawing. He’s never cried about something like that before.

They pull away when Steve’s wiping his eyes, and Jimmy looks at him and smiles. “Don’t be a stranger, huh?”

“I won’t,” Steve chokes out, throat still thick from the tears. “I promise.”

“Maybe the next time you come, it won’t just be you.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Steve waves as they leave the launch area, watching as they stop a safe distance away to see him off. He goes through his pre-flight check and gets clearance for takeoff when everything is in working order. He’s gone in a matter of seconds after that, his ship carrying him onward again.

~~~

Wanda jumps on him when he arrives at her house on Sokovia, and he laughs and picks her up, swinging her around a little. She yelps and smacks him on the shoulder until he puts her down again.

“Animal,” she teases, leading the way into her house so she can give him the grand tour.

He spends a month on Sokovia, learning how to control his premonitions better, how to remember more detail from his visions. Wanda is so strong, so powerful, and Steve knows part of that is her natural Sokovian affinity, but a lot of it, he thinks, is sheer grit and determination on her part. 

Her brother Pietro is a pain in the ass, but he’s also funny and charming, and he loves his sister fiercely. He isn’t sure about Steve at first until Steve makes it clear in no uncertain terms that he is in love with someone else and only sees Wanda as a friend. Steve raises his eyebrows at Wanda, and she sighs and tells Steve about some of the horrible people she’s dated.

~~~

On the last night of his visit, Wanda brings Steve to the highest hill in Vervith, the floating capital city of Sokovia, two hours before sunset, when the light is golden and dying. They eat sandwiches and drink the bitter dark beer Sokovia is famous for.

“Tell me about him,” she requests.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Steve hums at her a little. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to go into my mind and learn yourself? I know you can do that.”

“Hmm,” she says enigmatically. “Easier, yes. But you telling me is more entertaining.”

Steve huffs and looks away from her, out over the floating city and to the mountains beyond. “We knew each other since we were babies, my ma always used to tell me,” he starts.

~~~

Asgard is even more incredible than Steve could have imagined. Thor had told him stories, of course, but seeing it in person now, there’s no way any story could possibly do the place justice. It’s truly unbelievable.

Thor takes him on a tour of the palace, which takes most of the day, between the sheer size of the palace and how many times Steve pauses to look at some art or sculpture or architecture. 

“I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” he tells Thor at one point, but Thor just waves him off. 

“It’s nice, really. You’d think, what with all the shiny gold and all, that this place would always be stunning, but growing up here...you sort of get used to it, I suppose. It’s not until someone comes and looks at it with new eyes that you start to see it again for yourself.”

Thor takes Steve to meet his mother the next day over lunch. She’s sitting in her conservatory, surrounded by fragrant, blooming trees and lush plants laden with flowers. It’s warm and wonderful, and some of the glass windows have been opened to let in a breeze. The view out the windows looks down into the city of Asgard itself, and Steve can see people in the distance walking through the cobbled streets, buying goods or haggling over prices, maybe visiting with friends like he’s doing. 

The Queen is sitting at a small round table filled with fruits and breads, olives, cheeses, and cold meat. Steve’s stomach rumbles mightily at the sight, and Thor laughs at him goodnaturedly, like everything Thor does.

“Mother,” Thor says as she turns in her seat to look at them. “This is my good friend, Steven Rogers.”

“Steven,” she says, getting out of her chair and practically gliding over. Her hair is long and braided into the most complicated pattern he’s ever seen on a person, and her dress is ice blue to match her eyes. She’s beautiful, and her face is so kind. Steve sees where Thor gets it from.

“Steve is fine, your highness,” Steve says, and she hums a little at him. 

“Then you may call me Frigga.” She smiles at him and lifts her hand to his cheek, and he suddenly misses his mother so sharply, so acutely, that it takes his breath away. 

“Oh,” he chokes out around the tightness in his throat. He sags, and she steps closer and wraps him in her arms.

“Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry,” she tells him. She sounds so sincere that he doesn’t think twice about resting his head on her shoulder and letting her hold him, comfort him, the way only a mother can.

He pulls away when he feels like he can breathe without the threat of tears, and he smiles sadly in an effort to thank her. She runs her hand down his arm and clasps his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Come,” she says, pulling him toward the table. “Let’s eat, and you can tell me all about Sarah.”

“How did you know that was her name?”

Frigga taps the side of her nose and smiles a mischievous smile at him, and oh,  _ that’s _ where Loki gets it from. She tilts her head at him when she notices him thinking.

“I was just thinking earlier that you looked so kind, and that’s where Thor gets it from. And then you smiled like that, mischievous and secretive, and I realized that’s where Loki gets it from.”

Frigga stops and turns to face Steve fully, eyes narrowed as she assesses him more carefully. He stands up straighter and lets her look, feeling a little tingle in his head as she does. Ah. She’s a Seer, and a powerful one at that. Maybe something more. He gently pushes her back out of his head like Wanda taught him during his visit there, smiling sweetly as he does.

She shrugs a little in a “can you blame me for trying?” kind of way, and Steve laughs because no, he doesn’t. Most people probably can’t even tell she’s doing it, and it must be a useful trick during diplomatic meetings and things. He gets the feeling she only does it to glean very surface information, emotions and things. 

He holds his arm out for her, and she takes it. “Steve is my favorite of your friends, Thor,” she says as they walk to the table.

Thor sputters. “You just met him! You’ve known some of my other friends for hundreds of years!”

“Mm-hmm,” she replies, sitting down as Steve pulls her chair out for her.

Steve just laughs and takes his own seat before filling a plate high with food. Thor grumbles but sits down to eat, too. 

They spend the afternoon talking and eating, trading stories. Frigga spins an incredible tale, and by the time he and Thor eventually leave, Steve feels warm and relaxed and safe. As he lays in bed that night, a soft breeze blowing through the open balcony doors, he thinks about Bucky. He hopes he’s happy, wherever he is, that he’s healthy. That he’s getting what he needed, what he left Steve for.

Because he himself is, he realizes with a start. Bucky was right. He needed to learn how to let people in again, he needed to have something that wasn’t just Bucky. He still misses him fiercely, of course. Some days it feels like there’s a hole in his sternum that can never be filled. But those days are fewer and further between.  _ Progress, _ he thinks.

~~~

Thor suggests a tour of the lands outside of Asgard, so they pack a tent and some food, and he gets a crash course in horseback riding, and off they go. The weather is nice enough that they end up not needing the tent, so they lay on their backs, looking up at the stars. Thor points out all of the planets he’s been to that they can see in Asgard’s night sky.

“Let’s go,” Steve tells him. “When we’re done with this trip, let’s go off-world. Show me your favorite places, will you?”

“Of course,” Thor beams at him. 

Thor shows him the Nine realms and all his favorite planets. They travel for months at a time and then spend months back on Asgard. Frigga presents him with a gorgeous leather-bound journal one day, its creamy pages thick and blank. He thanks her a few days later by giving her a sketch of Thor, once he’s feeling confident in his skills again. She has it framed and hangs it in her dressing room.

They see Loki every now and again, his schedule even more erratic than theirs. Steve aches to hear news about Bucky, but he manages not to ask. Loki takes pity on him once and tells him Bucky is doing well, that he’s healing. Steve thanks Loki and promptly changes the subject.

He  _ yearns _ for Bucky, longs to see him again, to hold him close and kiss him breathless. 

But he’s happy for him, too. He’s happy that he’s doing better. As much as he wishes Bucky could have healed with him so they were together, he’s understands now that wasn’t a realistic prospect. He doubts either of them would have done much actual healing if they’d stayed together.

~~~

Steve’s sitting on the side of a hill overlooking the city of Asgard and its golden palace. Thor keeps telling Steve the palace has a name, but he can’t seem to hold in his brain. There’s a stretched piece of canvas, wet with paint, on a wooden frame resting in his lap, paints scattered around him in the grass and on top of the wicker basket he brought with him to hold his supplies and his lunch. 

He likes the view from here, with the city laid out in front of the palace, a glimpse of sparkling water far off in the distance. It’s a bit of a hike by himself: it’s always easier to get up here when Thor flies them with his hammer, but his father sent him on an errand today. So Steve’s up here all alone, the solitude comforting instead of crushing like it might have been months ago.

He’s adding some windows to a little stone building when someone sits down a few feet behind his right shoulder. He turns his head to say hello to Thor, ask him how his day was, and freezes when he sees it’s not Thor at all.

It’s Bucky.

Gods, it’s  _ Bucky. _ He looks...good. Healthier. But nervous, sitting on the ground with his knees up by his chest, his arms wrapped around his shins. He’s looking down at the city instead of looking at Steve, so he takes the hint and turns back to his painting. 

He can’t seem to focus on it now, though, not with Bucky so close. He keeps lifting his brush to dab some paint on the canvas, holding it aloft but never putting it down to actually deliver the paint. 

They sit in silence for a little while. Just when Steve thinks he can’t take it anymore and is about to turn around, Bucky speaks.

“It’s beautiful here.” 

Steve grunts his agreement. That’s probably not enough, and Steve panics for a second thinking that Bucky is going to take that grunt and lack of actual words and think Steve doesn’t want to talk to him anymore, and oh, gods, he’s already fucking this all up, isn’t he?

“You’re painting again.”

Oh, thank all the gods. “Yeah. Thor told his mom that I was an artist, and she gave me all these fancy paints and things. It felt rude not to use them. I was a disaster at first, though. I haven’t painted since the portrait miniature in your compass, and that was so different in scale to this. So I took some lessons down in the artisan district of the city. My teacher was so tough, but she sure got results.”

Steve takes a chance and turns his body a little so it’s easier to look at Bucky. Bucky is smiling but there are tears in his eyes. Steve gives him a questioning look. 

“You lived.”

Steve closes his eyes and sighs. “Yeah. You were right. It was fucking awful to hear at the time, but you were right. Don’t get me wrong, I missed you like hell, but. I needed this. I feel lighter. Good. I feel good, Bucky.”

“You look good.” Bucky creeps close enough to touch and traces the edge of the beard Steve grew back, touches the hair just starting to curl around his ears.

Steve huffs and smiles softly. “Yeah, turns out you were right about that, too. What about you? How have you been?”

“Good. Or, well, as good as I can be, I think. Loki brought me here right after I left you, and he took me to some healers. They helped make my arm not pinch so bad, and one of them helped me work through everything that happened with Hydra. It was. Well. Hard. Terrible, most days, if I’m honest. I still have nightmares sometimes. But it helped. A lot. I feel more like myself than I have in years.”

Steve smiles, full and genuine. “Good. I’m happy for you, Buck.”

“Yeah. I’m happy for me, too. I could be happier, though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Bucky nods and shrugs, smiling a soft, little smile as he leans over and bumps Steve’s shoulder. Steve stills and turns to look at Bucky. He’s nervous suddenly, throat closing up, hands sweating. He puts his paintbrush down, moving the canvas off his lap, and wipes his palms on his thighs. Bucky tracks the movement as he leans close.

“Stevie,” he whispers.

“Let’s live,” Steve whispers back. “You and me, let’s  _ live _ .”

Bucky grins, beautiful with it, as Steve closes the gap between them.


End file.
